


From here, the stars

by Darkest_Day



Series: From Stars [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: D2 spoilers, Destiny 2, F/M, Faction Rallies, In-Game Compliant, Loss of Light, M/M, No Longer In-Game Compliant, Palpable Light, Pining, Robot Sex, Sexual Content, Sparrow Jousting, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkest_Day/pseuds/Darkest_Day
Summary: See, the reboots, they don't wipe it all away. Not everything. And the new life-plus the Light-it does something real funny to what's left. Amplifies it, scrambles it, reshuffles the fragments like a dealer riffling a deck of cards, putting the hands we've already won and lost back into play.Most of us do what we can on our own to forget. Let the itch go unscratched.Me? I learned long ago you gotta play the hand you're dealt.





	1. Homecoming

The ash and smoke in the air caught in his chest. He could feel the soot grind in the pieces of metal that made up his insides. All the knocking and rotating bits of machine caught up with that grime and ash. That feeling wasn't new, in fact, he found it refreshing. He was back out where he belonged, shooting bad guys and leaving bodies in his wake. He could feel that steady tick in his chest from the piece of tech that resembled his heart click faster with each press of the trigger. Each little noise seemed amplified, each minute felt longer than the last.

Count the enemies. Count how many bullets he needed to kill each one. Shoot the closest ones in the forehead. Switch weapons. Do it again. Duck into cover from enemy fire and reload both guns. Get up and do it again. Light fire to his pistol and shoot the scorching heat through as many of them as were lined up. Three bullets. Six more dead.

This was what he lived for, dodging out of the way of more bullets that caught burnt holes in his heavy cloak. He was always stuck in that Tower, always itching to pretend to breathe the fresh air of the wilderness and the trees and creeks criss-crossing over the earth. Standing at the edge of the ocean and looking out over the raging sea. Flying his ship as low as he dared across open water, letting wingtips cut through the waves as he soared like a bird snipped free from its cage. He'd grab his sniper and sit at one of the tallest points of the tower and aim his empty weapon down into the brush and wilderness below him, begging something to come out – anything – so he could pretend to shoot it. He was a machine with a heart that belonged _out there_ while he was trapped behind walls, pacing rivets into the concrete that made up the floor of his room. He lay in his bed and flicked cards into the wall and ceiling in front of him, laying with his head propped on the pillows lazily pinching the corners and watching them dent the wall. There were shallow dents dotting the walls in almost a pattern. It seemed every night he burned through another deck of cards with busted up edges into the walls. None that ever stuck nice and well into the walls stayed for longer than a few days.

Sure, he'd done some good things and hand-trained a few Guardians but he'd also missed this. Here he was sending Guardians out to do his dirty work when it should be him out in the field with his belly to the dirt with a gun at his hip and another in his palms while he took aim at whatever unfortunate monster got caught in his cross hair. But he did leave, sometimes. Snuck out in his ship and flew off to a planet, to somewhere he knew. He knew the name Clovis Bray was important to him somehow, he couldn't always remember why. The longer he went without sleep, the more he was able to piece together. He was always just collecting, picking up things that, when he touched them, reminded him of something he couldn't remember.

To his left a building was beginning to crumble, stray blasts and ricocheted bits of metal and heat battering and weakening the base. Hunks of stone and wood splintered, cracks fracturing what once stood tall and proud. He lit his gun again. The first shot clean through two Cabal. The second shot went out mid air and couldn't entirely kill the second Cabal charging at him. “Something's wrong.” He said to himself, dancing backwards and smacking the gun into his palm as if that would help. The flames that licked the barrel were quickly dying and by the time he shot the third bullet the flames were gone and the Cabal was dead at his feet.

Their plan was simple. Get their Guardian on the ship. Disable the shields. Shoot it down. He'd gone out here to get some real heavy guns, ones that the Cabal used. Ones that would really sting when he shot them down. He was listening to the comms, to the status of their Guardian. Waiting for the signal. Waiting for that shield to go down. A voice, sharp in his ear. “Cayde! What's your status?”

“Uh.” He started, slapping the gun against his palm again as if to try to wake it. “Little low on ammo. The whole flaming pistol thing is kinda burning out. Any word heard from Ikora?” She'd been quiet. There was static in his head.

“Not since she ---t for the Speak--”

“Shit.” He muttered, the connection was going dark, his fire was fading fast.

“Form up! ------.” He knew that he was still speaking, but he heard nothing but garbled noise.

“Shit.” He said again, tried to light his weapon. The flames burst alight but as soon as he started shooting they flickered again. The Cabal were gaining on him, his back hit the wall behind him. He swore for a third time, rolling into the rubble and trying to get away. “This is fine.” He said. “I can make this work.” He kept shooting, but he was losing count of each bullet, of each shot. How many left? How many more around him? Everything was rushing at him. “Zavala?” He shouted into the comms, “Guardian? Ikora?! Anyone? Hello!” Only static, the faded sound of shots and explosions. Then only that faint buzzing. Only a few more shots in his gun, too far away to reach the rest. He'd forgotten how quickly a situation could turn on him, he used to relish in that worry. But now? This was different, this felt wrong. This felt like whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be good.

And it really wasn't.

All at once, with a hoard of aliens charging at him, the Light just.. faded. It drained from his head to his toes like the end of a stream cascading off a cliff, sinking deep into the earth below and away from him. His head spun, which he had no business feeling, being an exo and all, it was such a human feeling of weakness. Of helplessness. As the Light drained from him he sank down to his knees, one hand limply coiled around his gun, the other clutched to his chest as if he could have held his Light inside of him. He cocked his head back, looking up at that ship above. His vision was lit with a dull red, like the slow pulse of a warning light at the back of his head. A shade had passed over the Traveler, like a shield, and as the Cabal before him made a deep growling noise that sounded like a throaty gurgled laugh, he saw a body fall from the ship, tumbling through the air and lost to the smoke. And as the large alien hand collided with the side of his head, all he could do was hope that the figure crash-landing back into earth wasn't his favourite guardian. Even though he knew that was a lie, he still hoped.

His body went flying into the crumbling building as the Cabal began to shoot at the fractured structure. It roared as it fell, bullets and noise and shouts and screaming that might have just been him and then simple blackness. He knew no more.

When he awoke, he was more than half buried under dirt and stone. Pain senors throbbed, alerting him to the shard of wood that had pierced his back somewhere and the massive tear in his calf. Everything else seemed to be working okay, he could flex his fingers, he could wriggle his toes, he could groan and he could see and he could hear. His body pulsed like that warning alarm, red tinge at the corner of his vision, so he made to move, shifting the dirt and wood and wincing at each groaning sound his body made. Swearing as the shard piercing him moved and tore more of the tech inside him. Eventually he got himself sitting up, arching his back and tugging that wood out of his back. And boy, did that hurt. At least his body recognized that these injuries were serious, the pain sensors that delivered the cue his mind was dulled to a slow red heat in his vision. “Ghost?” He asked, weakly, but he couldn't see the little machine anywhere. “Oh no.” He murmured, struggling to pull himself to wobbly feet, something was torn and hanging off him on his leg. He didn't care. “No no nono, look,” he started to himself. “Look, okay, I know I wanted out of that Tower but I didn't mean like this, okay? It was never supposed to be like this.” He stumbled down to his knees again, grunting. He didn't need to breathe but he was still letting out shaky breaths because he was an empty machine without his Light and he needed to try to feel something again. Something human, anything other than the blank despair.

He began to hunt for his Ghost. He couldn't be without her. He found his pistol first and set it beside him, almost tenderly, the barrel cracked and the trigger snapped off, bent out of shape and scarred with scratches and burn marks. He tried to dig with his hands, scraping into the rock and wood, desperately trying to find her. He grabbed the gun and used that to try to dig too, she had to be here somewhere. “Ikora..” he murmured, still digging, still hunting. “Zavala...” he reached in and began to haul a piece of wood away from the hole he was digging. “Guardian...” he wished he knew her name. “I swear, if any of you are dead I'll resurrect you and kill you myself.”

The ticking in his chest went a little faster when he spotted it. His little Ghost hidden under the sand. He carefully brushed dirt from around her sides, then tucked his hand under her to pull her free from her prison. The screen where the little eye was was dark and decorated with a long thin crack, but the metal still felt warm to the touch. The triangular pieces of its machine body still twitched, as if she were trying to come back to life. If exo's could cry, he'd have done so now. Out of relief that his Ghost wasn't destroyed or out of pure desperate sadness over the situation, he didn't know. Instead he just sat there, cradling his Ghost to his chest and saying soft words to her, he didn't know if his voice would reach, but she continued to twitch in his hands as if she were trying to respond. “I'll repair you.” He said, and stumbled to his feet with a piece of metal hanging from his leg. Holding a useless gun and a broken but not dead Ghost, he began to limp ahead until he saw a little light shining in the distance. “I'm going to kill whoever did this. And I'm gonna repair you” This, the Traveler, the Light, his Ghost, the Tower he had both loved and hated. In the distance he could still hear the bangs and shouts of a battle, it must have only been a few hours. He walked towards the light he could see, it had to be another Ghost, lost from its Guardian. Each step was another warning flash of pain.

“ _Vera?_ ” Another Ghost called, and he knew that voice. “ _Guardian? Vera? Oh please, I just need to find you._ ” He stared in bewilderment. Was that her name? His favourite Guardian finally had a name, he couldn't help that flash of excitement before it was swallowed up by all the negative emotions flooding his system of wires. The Ghost's voice was weak and low, but he knew that voice so well. But he hadn't found his Guardian, that didn't sit well with him.

“Is that her name?” He called, stumbling over bits of what was once a sidewalk.

“ _Cayde?_ ” The voice asked, almost perking up and darting over to him. 'Darting' as if in slow motion. Faster than the pace he'd been moving before. “ _Is that you? Have you seen her?_ ” The desperation in his voice felt like another blow to the head.

“Yeah, yeah it's me.” He tried, doing his best not to sound as beaten down and hopeless as he felt. “Takes more than this to kill me, ya know.” He shrugged, kneeling in a patch of charred grass. “And you'll find her.” He said, eyeing the little light carefully. “If I know her at all she'll be live somewhere.” He was glad that, at least, he knew her name. “And if you don't, you'll be able to bring her back as soon as we kill whoever did this.” The pieces of his shell seemed to droop at that, but he couldn't imagine that she wouldn't survive this. She was tight-lipped and strong, didn't speak much, didn't really fit into the other types of hunters. Travelled alone unless she had to. It seemed a shame that he found her name when they'd all lost their City. “Look, Ghost, you've gotta help me.” He extended his hand, holding his Ghost out to it. “You can heal her right?” He asked.

“ _But the Light. It's .. gone._ ”

“I know, but trust me, you can, okay? Just try, please.” It was the closest thing to begging he would do, but it was still pretty obvious. He'd make an exception to his normal tune just this once. “It's worth a try, right? When you find her you'll have to heal her, this is practise.” The Ghost didn't believe him, he didn't blame it. It wasn't exactly common knowledge that Ghosts could heal other Ghosts.

" _I.. I'll try._ ” The voice said, but didn't sound confident. But when the light shone down on his Ghost, the light behind her lens flickered to life again, shining through the thin crack.

“See?” He said, how odd that an exo's voice could get so choked up despite not being able to cry. Maybe because he held so tightly to what little memories he had left, he could still remain more human than machine. “Told you you could do it.” He praised, his Ghost lifted from his palm and looked between them.

“ _I should.. keep looking for her."_

“Yeah, you should. You'll find her, alright? I know you will. You found her before, you'll find her again.” The Ghost bobbed in the air, sighing heavily, and began to float away. “Stay safe out there.” He called after it. And once it was gone, he turned to his own Ghost. “Come on, let's get out of here.” He said. He held out his hand to her and she sank into it, “we'll fix this mess. I've got a plan” He stood and looked at the Traveler for a long moment.

His Ghost chuckled, her voice had that same quiet and sad tone that Vera's had. “ _You've always got a plan._ ”

And with that, Cayde began his journey. "Hey Ghost? Think you can get around to healing me? No hurry, I guess, there's just a hole in my back and I'm pretty sure if I stumble I'll lose my ankle." 

" _Oh! Right."_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll start out by saying that I don't normally upload an incomplete work. Typically I wait until it's finished and put it up all at once. But this time I'm changing up my routine. I don't know how long this is going to be, I don't know exactly where I'm going. The ratings will change, the tags will be added as I go. If you liked this, if you didn't like this, please let me know. I'm treading into foreign waters and any critique will make my day. 
> 
> Summary is a snippet from Cayde's copy of Treasure Island, expect that to change as I go. 
> 
> There are two pieces of fan-made wonderfulness that has inspired this. The first is the author of Two Kinds of Steel, who not only writes true to the characters and extremely well, but who has also helped me in how exactly to write from the perspective of an Exo. Please go check this story out, I had been sitting on the Cayde/Zavala pairing for a few days before I discovered it, and it wasn't until after I read it that I knew I needed to write something myself. The sniper part in this was definitely inspired.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5710174/ 
> 
> When I started writing this I inhaled any and all lore about Cayde I could find, and in no small way helped inspire the direction I'm going. Give that video a watch, too. It's well worth the watch.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUvtk6RtPvQ&t
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read all this, this will jump around a little bit at first, and there will be D2 spoilers involved. The Guardian involved is mostly just a plot point, and she's mine, too. Check out my profile for various contact info, I'm always happy to chat plot points and swap ideas.


	2. Payback

All of this had started a long time ago. He'd always come and gone from the Tower and didn't really take the time to learn the names of the Vanguard, didn't stick around long enough to get a chance. He'd laugh with his packs of hunters about the desk job and how they pitied whichever hunter was stuck up there instead of out _here_. Out in the wilds digging up treasure, killing so many Fallen and Hive that their clothes reeked with the smell of ether and chitin. Back then, every visit to the tower had him in different gear. Something new he'd picked up from the wilderness, some new cloak woven together from the pieces of Fallen house banners. With a gun and a spark of flame or a lick of electricity he mowed down whatever got too close. Those were the days, never knowing how much longer until he got to rest, never choosing to go back to the safety of the Tower because the thrill of the fight seemed to be one of the only things that changed the way an exo's body responded. When climbing ruined skyscrapers in York the thick cord that ran through him like muscle flexed and pulled and strained from the effort of it, human-like, in only a few minutes the wires would tighten back up like nothing happened.

Or he'd get in his little ship and fly off somewhere, explore, kill things, collect a little bit more.

He met Andal Brask in the Tower one day, dressed in bright pink gear he'd lost a bet for. He was splattered head to foot with muck from the swamps in the outskirts of the EDZ. Exo's had some neat functions. Sensors and receptors would shut down if given enough stress, tear something and it would shut down the pain of it after the initial shock, plunge into ice water and the systems would go into a frenzy to overheat him so none of his joints would lock up, step through fire and – pain aside – it would blast cold air all within him and he would steam like he leaked ether. He'd even scorched the sensors in his mouth that picked up flavours so badly it had shut them down for hours, a hunter had dared him to eat some rare pepper they'd found. Scent receptors would shut down for thick smells; smoke or poison fumes, but in this case he'd wiped the foul-smelling mud over that slit above the plate that made up his lip. Tricked the sensor into shutting down. Everything would be easier if he could control the system, but at least he knew every workaround.

Wasn't even sure why he made such a mess of himself. Though looking back at it, it was probably because he was sour over losing and wanted to show that hunter who won that he could make even smelly dirt look good. He left footprints sashaying across the concrete of the Tower, walking proudly with his head held high. Andal had laughed and held his nose and introduced himself, having emerged from the Hall to see what the fuss was about. Then he had smeared his hand with filth to shake his. It was from that point he took the time to learn about them, the Vanguard. The awoken titan called Zavala with the deep voice who had caused a flicker in his system that made him forgot how to speak. The human warlock with a cold stare that he realized he actually knew. He'd seen the end of her gun more times than he cared to count. He hadn't realized she'd laid her weapons to rest to act as the warlock Vanguard. He'd heard of Osiris, of course, but hadn't cared at the time to see who had replaced him.

Cayde didn't chase anyone, he knew that. Even if he didn't exactly remember it, he knew it for _damn_ sure. He'd written it down enough times at any rate. So whatever current that had flickered into life at the thought of Zavala had been brushed off because it wasn't going to happen, he wasn't going to chase someone he'd begun to like. But Andal?

Andal chased him. Every time he went back to the Tower, every time he emerged from the wilds with new treasures and more hidden pieces of his memories and his journals recovered and hidden again all while wearing something new, Andal was waiting for him. He'd flirt openly but keep his affection behind closed doors, sometimes behind only partially closed doors.

Looking back on it, he wasn't so sure why that moment had started the rapid decline. He didn't remember all of it, but he could pick out pieces of it. All he remembered was sinking, unable to move, deeper and deeper and deeper, then waking up a month or six later on the shoreline. Salt and sand crusted into his joints, his mechanisms grinding listlessly. His Ghost gone. He'd found her later, once he crawled then eventually walked back to the Tower. That's when the misfires started and when the memories began to slip. His timelines became skewed, the machine mind inside of him sending dual or quad signals to his limbs that caused him to jerk uncontrollably. Broken his own fingers off of the barrel of a gun from it, dented a piece of metal in his throat from a jerk of his head, cracked Andal's wrist once because these misfires couldn't be controlled. His memories kept realigning. He didn't know what had happened down there, in the dark, but it didn't take an expert to know what was coming.

So he spent as much time there, with Andal, as he could before it was too late. Teasing Zavala and placing petty bets with Ikora and really just enjoying what he had left of this number. When the itch became too strong and he left the Tower to explore again and came back a little more run down each time.

And when he walked across the concrete wearing Andal's cloak, the heavy fabric rippling in the breeze, he'd never felt so small. That confidence and bravado he used to have was gone and left behind a crumbled sense of self-worth. Andal was gone, and here he was taking his place. He wondered how the others had coped with this transition, taking the place of a fallen friend. Osiris had been exiled, Saint-14 had vanished. Ikora had given him a solemn nod, he knew she understood. Zavala's expression was unreadable, but there was no hint of shock.

But as he began to adjust into his new life, the misfires ceased, the realignments became less and less frequent, the timeline stabilized. In a way, Andal's death had saved him. Saved him as much as a damaged exo like him could be saved, anyway.

After all the orientation, after they'd told him where he could find everything and how to handle the job, he stood at the window [ _no – first night as hunter Vanguard – realigning . . ._ ] with his hands folded behind his back, the rain poured over the glass, Ikora next to him. After a few long minutes of that silence, she put her hand on his shoulder, then left him alone. He spent that night wondering if maybe Andal had fallen on purpose, if he'd done it to save him from the reboot that had been quickly approaching.

So as he slept and dreamt of long nights spent staring at the ceiling flicking cards into the walls as an old flame started to rekindle, reminded of Zavala's kind eyes whenever he teased him. He always did try to read something from the patterns in the cards, tried to sort out his fate in them but he never found much of a connection. This one wasn't so much a memory, it was more of a reminder of reading what he had written who knew how many years ago, he knew he loved her once despite not actually remembering her. What he was sure of was that he never did anything about it, he just let it lie and eventually it had been too late. Back then he'd been more of a fixture than anything else so maybe, this time, he should do a more about it. That girl didn't feel like the only one, he'd been around for a long time. It couldn't be the first time. Maybe he should try being the chaser for once, and he knew damn well Andal wouldn't have wanted him to wallow in misery forever. He would have wanted him to press on and find someone else.

After awhile, it started to feel less like he was just a replacement for Andal and more like he belonged here. And over time Andal faded into a memory and Cayde stopped writing him letters he would never read. He didn't know how long it would take for Zavala to stop seeing him as the one left behind from a dead comrade, or as just a replacement. He had honour, that was for sure. Maybe he thought going after Cayde was an insult to a memory. He still did remember the night he made the decision to set his sights on Zavala. Long enough to heal, long enough to feel confident as the hunter Vanguard.

He would bet that if anyone were to look up the definitions of 'impressive', 'serious', and 'hunk', they'd find a picture of Zavala. Warlocks who already knew the definitions of those words lost out on quite a lot of their freshly farmed glimmer that way, and it fuelled his continuous debt to Ikora. This was the safest bet he could make because he added the pictures to the definitions himself. His Ghost grudgingly informed him the minute anyone removed the images so he could add them in again. After a few weeks of this, whoever was changing it stopped. While he was as persistent to win as he was stubborn, he was disappointed when he won that one. Whoever was changing it back wasn't nearly as driven as he was, and had given up the game too quickly. He even thought he'd overheard a conversation between Zavala and Ikora, she was saying that if he looked up the definition of 'ruggedly handsome', they'd find a picture of Cayde. Zavala had insisted he did not have time for 'bets' and wasn't about to engage in their silly games.

And as time went on Cayde kept finding more games to play. He replaced Amanda's tools with children's play sets, he told new Guardians that the Sweeperbots really liked when flowers were stuck in their heads, he challenged his hunters to hijack the Tower intercom and broadcast a steamy passage either from their own heads or a trashy paperback. They got real creative sometimes. Warlocks were too proper to take his offer, and titans were rule oriented. Hunters were always up for a challenge and they weren't afraid to take on his dares. It was harmless fun and kept him busy, kept his mind from declining. But it was Zavala who he really wanted to get to. He wanted to get under his skin, he wanted to make him squirm.

So he went a little further when it came to him He pushed his luck. But as his shuffled thoughts shifted to Zavala, all those little moments converged into each other. Times he patted his hand, walked a little too close when he went by, cornering him when they were leaving the main hall together, trying to figure out how to make his clumsy hands work for him while Zavala looked at him with something uncertain in his eyes. Shaxx yelling at them to get a room and Cayde shouting back “I'm working on it!” He became a boy with a crush and everything about it was ridiculous, but he didn't know how to be serious about this kind of thing, he didn't know how he was supposed to turn flirting into something more. He never chased, anything he'd ever had was because they'd gone after him. It was like that part of his brain hadn't been transferred over to the machine.

He was grinding every last one of Zavala's gears in hopes everything would just happen like they did in those cheesy romance novels. But things didn't always go like that, Zavala wasn't some dream man and Cayde wasn't the plucky lead. He was an exo with damage and a couple reboots under his belt who tried to defy his memory loss by writing everything down and collecting anything that reminded him of himself. What little he knew was precious. Zavala was a hardened war hero who wasn't interested in partners, much less a robot like him. He knew he wasn't exactly an ideal partner, Zavala would probably be happier with another squishy Guardian made of skin and blood.

When Vera first arrived, Zavala had believed she would do just fine, Ikora had been critical, and him? Well, she was one of his hunters. He knew she'd be good. Petite little awoken, glowing orange eyes, pale hair, never got her name and apparently the others hadn't either. At least, until now. And she had been great, prevented the destruction of worlds and took down everything they threw at her. Seems like the Traveler thought so too, what with her being the only one to find her Light again after the attack.

It was easier to remember this boot, the '6' in his name, than anything before that. The only memories he tried not to remember were the ones that led up to each wipe. And one, he thought, something dark that clouded at the back of his mind—[ _misfire – head jerk – realigning . . ._ ] He knew it was there, somewhere, a loose wire and any hit would connect it again and the picture would be complete. So he was always on the move, always thinking up his next scheme because when things got dark he got closer to that memory.

And when they lost the City and they were all drained of Light, that was the closest to that memory that he had ever come. It was a good thing, then, that he hadn't watched Ghaul's shield encompass the Traveler.

And when he woke up from the jumbled mess and the misfire he was on the Farm in a makeshift bed. It was almost a shock that he had fallen asleep with things the way they were. He occasionally forgot things when he slept, though he could dream. He could still imagine and play pretend in his head, it's how new memories sometimes came to him. This series of somewhat distressed memories and knowing all those old letters were gone completely in the attack left a faint buzzing just under the metal plating, a slight hum that felt like a warning.

Whatever was wrong with him, he was going to need to fix. Or he was going to have to face what was coming.

“ _Cayde? Incoming transmission from Commander Zavala_.” He scoffed, almost irritable while his Ghost floated there cheerfully. He knew she would know everything that happened to him, and if he asked her she would tell him. It just didn't feel right to discover himself through her, so he never asked what she knew. If he stumbled across something that was wrong, she would point it out so he could be pretty certain what he knew was correct.

“You don't need to call him 'Commander', he's just Zavala. You know this.” He hoped he was close enough to him to forgo titles and ranks with him. Hearing him say that he needed him not so long ago spurned something in his chest. “But yeah, let's do this.”

They were sending their Guardian into the EDZ to take down Thumos and steal his ship. He itched to volunteer but he wasn't so sure if his mind was really in the right place for it. Without the Light, it was a gamble he wasn't so sure he would be able to win. Anyway, they were going to the City tonight for their last stand, that's where he was needed the most. “Zavala!” He said, cheerful as can be from the relative safety of a little room in the early morning sun.

“Guardian. You've got a tough road ahead. So I'm sending in Amanda with something.. special.” Zavala started when Vera gave the signal. It shouldn't be too hard for Cayde to find him, the area wasn't that big and he didn't anticipate he would have got very far.

“Are we talking Gjallarhorn special? Or an Ikora philosophy lesson special?” He asked, cheerfully. And the rest was, well, grandiosity. He'd chosen then to ask Zavala about him saying he needed him. That thought still brought a jolt through the hard wire that made up his limbs. Asked if he cried, he expected to be scolded for the brazen lack of respect – not Zavala clearing his throat and changing the subject. It spurred him on, it made that tick move a little quicker. A trillion scenarios in his head and most of them were about how _oh yes_ he did need to make his move because there was something there. There just had to be.

And yeah, a tank would be so _damn_ cool.

As their Guardian stalled the ship and stepped into the cool morning water for a breather before going into the fire again, he found him sitting alone in the grass past the trees looking at the foggy lake and the smouldering shard of the Traveler. “And Cayde...” Zavala said, his voice gentle. “When this is all over, I'll talk to Amanda about your tank.”

When he spoke, his voice came through on the comms and right behind him. “Aww, I missed you too buddy.” He was warmed by the exchange, and wondered if her Ghost was going to comment on it later. He had confidence their Guardian would complete this just fine, so he hadn't taken it all that seriously. When Zavala heard him he leapt to his feet and hurriedly switched the comms off, he looked as though the moment wasn't supposed to be a face to face one, like it was something he could only say if he didn't have to see the person he was talking to. He took it as a good sign, “ah come on, no need to stand up just for me.” He teased as he walked towards him and sat down next to his feet. He couldn't help but notice how battered the titan looked, worn down and tired like he had been up all night pacing instead of sleeping. Zavala sighed and sat down beside him again. He noticed that they weren't sitting that far apart. If he moved his elbow too much he would hit him with it. For a moment they just sat together and watched the birds flit through the sky.

Without the Light, everything was a struggle. He was brave enough to face the odds knowing that if he met his death it would be final. He still felt like a beaten dog, every blast hit harder, every day he felt that emptiness. Must have been worse for an awoken, someone who wasn't machine like him, they were probably a lot more in tune with the Light than he was. These were their final hours before the battle, and if he knew Zavala at all, he had already prepared last night. He'd be up in the air within minutes if he had to. Ikora had told them that there would be no coming back, and he was prepared for it. He would give his life for the City, willingly. So these moments were the last before either the end, or the start of something new. The calm before the storm, it's no wonder he looked so tired. So he looked at Zavala and knew something had to happen here and now, before it was truly too late.

The little tick in his chest was slow and steady. He wanted to reach to his friend's hand and tell him that there was more to his antics than just to get a rise out of him. That was probably the easiest course of action, and despite how sure he was that Zavala felt _something_ for him he couldn't bring himself to be quite so brave enough to say it and he didn't know why. Fire and bullets and inspiration he could do, rushing into the face of death with his fingers ready and his mind prepped to count each bullet he could do. But this? He couldn't. This wasn't a book or a plot, this was real and he didn't know how he was supposed to make this happen. He was uncharacteristically clumsy and couldn't bring himself to be so bold. Trillions of phrases that had echoed through him and none of them sounded right so he decided to just start talking and see where the words took him. “Zavala, I—“

“Cayde, wait.” Zavala interrupted, looking at him almost sternly. “I don't want to hear your goodbyes, I don't want you to talk like it's the end. With or without the Light, I don't think that we will meet our ends out there. Ikora has been preparing for the worst but I don't think we are that far gone yet. And..” He looked away, then, Cayde pretended to hold his breath despite not actually needing to breathe. “I just want you to know that I..” Zavala sighed, “look, now is not the time for goodbyes.”

Cayde really wanted to know where he was going with that one. There was so much he wanted to do in that moment, so much he wanted to tell him. So much he wished he'd done and so many fragmented old words that were telling him to actually do something about it instead of just sitting on it. Something about the bow of Zavala's lips as he spoke was pulling him in, the moment vibrated in his chest and the seconds that ticked by felt akin to panic. How many times had he let these moments fade off without action?

He was a mess. Most exo's were, it came with the territory. It was to be expected with the weak mind of a human put into a steel trap made of metal. It was a flawed design, men chose to become exo's to escape or to halt time and let it all go. There just wasn't enough circuitry for it all, some men were made for it and others weren't and he still didn't know if he was made for it or not. Some men let that itch of wonder go unscratched, but he couldn't do that. This would not have been the path he chose.

But Zavala stood to leave before Cayde could come up with something clever to say. He had to continue, he had to prepare for the next step to guide their Guardian. Cayde panicked and stood up and reached out to grasp Zavala's hand tightly, he thought about what to say and dismissed each one as it came to him. Scenario after scenario repeated again and again and again all in an instant. Zavala waited, Cayde looked at their hands and felt his eyes on him. He couldn't find the words despite exhausting his entire vocabulary and then some all within a second. This wasn't a book, there was no plot he was helpless to follow, this was it and he was left wavering between the moment where everything changed and where he just walked away with nothing said. He couldn't even begin to decide any action to take.

So instead of saying anything that related to the churning inside him, he said: “Be sure to get some rest before this, you look tired.” He let his grip go slack and his hand fell from his, but not before the titan's fingers closed around his for the briefest of moments, letting their touch linger. This really shouldn't be such a struggle, all signs pointed to _go for it_ and as Zavala left, he sighed and closed his vision off and flopped back onto the ground, knowing it was over. Whatever Zavala wanted to say, he hadn't been strong enough to actually ask him what it was.

It didn't take long for Ikora to join him, a book in hand. She sat next to him as he sat up, her arm against his and opened the book in her lap. He didn't say anything to her, he knew she was aware of everything that ticked inside of him for Zavala, he knew she knew about his fondness for Amanda, she even knew about his fondness for her. If she knew anything about what their fireteam leader felt, she never betrayed a thing. Some secrets must be kept, even among close friends, he understood that. He'd never asked, but he didn't think she would tell him even if he did.

She had confessed to him, once, the struggles she faced long before he was even in the Vanguard. It was common for warlocks, he knew, their pull to the darkness was stronger than his ever would be. It had been the first time he draped an arm around her, he'd done it without thinking and she had leaned into it. She had been a source of strength for him, too, she'd been there for him through all of it. He didn't think she was aware yet that he had begun his next decline. But that's a secret he was going to keep, none of them needed to know.

He rest the area of his face that was his cheek against her head as she leaned against him, hoping that all his hard metal bits wouldn't bring her discomfort. He stared at the steady slow smoke billowing off the shard in the distance, he wondered if his Light was waiting there. But, no, the Traveler had chosen Vera to do this, the Traveler wouldn't have chosen someone it couldn't trust. “Hey, Ikora.” He started.

“What is it, Cayde?” She asked impatiently, marking her spot in the book with her finger.

“Zavala's getting me a tank.” He said, hoping his voice sounded like he was grinning. He always hoped he sounded like he was grinning.

“Excuse me? A tank? I'm going to have to have a talk with him about that.”

“What?! No! You can't take away my tank before I even get it!” His voice was loud enough to scatter birds from the trees behind them and they fluttered across the lake and into the fog. He could feel her body shake as she laughed, she might have said 'watch me' as some kind of challenge, but he wasn't listening.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a struggle because there's very little reference to a real timeline within the Vanguard, I did what I could. Gutted it once or twice. The biggest reference point I could find was that Ikora's crucible days were 136 years from vanilla Destiny, or at least when that grimoire card came up. If I have messed anything up lore-wise, let me know. You can find my Tumblr on my profile. 
> 
> Thank you for all the warm comments, they make my day. You guys are awesome!


	3. Chosen

Mid firefight. Counting bullets. Counting heads. They were closing in on him as he was trying to get the Vex teleporter working. Their bullets hit hard when they did and his Ghost was on full time recovery. He was getting swarmed, shouting into the comms and trying to find out how long it would be until his fireteam got to him. Another came lumbering up, a big guy with an even bigger gun. 200 rpm, every seventh bullet detonated. He wanted one of these way more than he wanted a tank. It was more of a turret than an actual gun. Shot it along the ground and it tore into his foot, steam rushed out of him instead of blood.

It was the first real taste of the fear of death. True death, final and completely the end of him that no fragments of shattered memories could save. No Ghost could revive him – with or without the Light – if his body was torn to shrapnel. Vera needed to hurry. Zavala needed to hurry. Ikora needed to hurry.

He was screaming in pain when he spotted a familiar face rushing over and the Cabal elite levelled his gun and began to shoot. The first bullet that sank into his palm exploded. Pain sensor went crazy. Bullets ran up his arm, four out of six hit, the seventh lodged somewhere near his elbow and with a flash that floored him to the edge of the outlook his arm was gone. Pain sensors shut down in that area, body trying to realign itself, still shouting into the comms, hoping he could still get this damn thing working and hoping he wasn't about to die just yet. Zavala was the one to make it stop, knocking him in the head with a few bullets from his rifle, killing it, then moving on to the others, pulling all his energy into fighting. With a flashing red blinking in his vision, he shuffled over to the hunk of tech. Ikora was there next, got between him and them.

But the battle had taken so much out of all of them, he winced when he watched the Cabal cut Zavala down, when the Cabal were all dead Ikora sank to her knees, gripping a railing to keep herself from the ground. Zavala was still collapsed against the stone garden wall. When Vera arrived with not even a scratch on her, he knew that their paths here had come to an end. It was her turn to finish this.

After she left, he hauled himself over to Zavala with one arm and one knee. Zavala was talking into the comms with all the strength he had left, and when he stopped talking he closed his eyes and went quiet. He got to him, knees facing the wall, Zavala's thigh against his hip. He reached out with his left hand and patted his cheek with his palm. “Come on, big guy.” He said, feigning the cheer in his voice. “Don't quit on me just yet, hold on a little longer. She's got this.”

Zavala grasped his hand, concentrating on breathing nice and easy. His grip was tight, his eyes still closed, face pinched with pain. Cayde curled his fingers over his, watching the battle above. He could see the bolts of electricity, flashes of flame, bursts of dark energy. And when the mess of power ceased, he thought that they could begin to celebrate. It was over. He squeezed the titan's hand eagerly.

But then a figure, built of Light and energy, began to form, huge and bulking and bright. Ghaul had won, he had become immortal and they had been too late to stop it. He could hear his booming voice and that flashing red in his vision faded to grey, his body sagged and he leaned into Zavala's leg. There was nothing left, they wouldn't survive getting out of here. Ikora had been right all along, there would be no coming back. Zavala could barely move, they wouldn't be able to get a ship in here, he couldn't walk with just one working leg. Ikora probably had the most strength out of all of them but she wouldn't be able to get them both out. He didn't even think Vera could get them out of here safely on her own. Zavala opened his eyes, he struggled to keep them open but looked at Cayde intently as he could. Trillions of possibilities but he said nothing, instead just bowed his head and let his hand go slack in his. Ikora had sank to her knees, her arms folded on that old railing, her head down, letting misery overtake her.

In the end, he supposed this was as good a way as any to go. Battle wounded, all efforts exhausted, his hand closed tight by someone he cared fiercely about. Well, with two people he cared about. He wished Ikora was closer to him, so he could hold onto her too when all this ended. He looked back up at Zavala, who exhaled heavily and leaned his head back against the concrete, his eyes slipping closed as the despair took him. It was useless to try to comfort him when he couldn't find it himself. Then the titan sat forwards, without warning, to grab a fistful of his scarf and pull him in. He kissed the hard metal plate of his mouth and Cayde made a rather undignified noise in shock. What a better way to go. It was like he was melting into him, like all his pain and warning circuits were disconnected and it was just him and Zavala and the dry chapped lips catching on his.

Zavala was just beginning to pull away from him when the Light hit them at full force. It washed over them in an instant, like a tsunami of power and strength. It was both blinding and deafening as the flames inside him lit back up. His systems went sideways and began to burn so hot he thought it would melt his circuits. Primordial. It ripped through him so strongly he could only hold on to the man in front of him. He'd never felt such power, he'd never felt such a strong taste of the Light before. It was potent as his fire licked heat and power down his arms and legs. He could feel Zavala's, too, cackling and sparking from under his skin and and into his body where they were still mouth to mouth. His fire and heat were sinking into him, too. Even though Ikora wasn't as close to them, he could feel that low vibration of hers as powerful as a solar flare.

With newfound power, Zavala put his palms firmly on the hollows of his jaw and kissed him again in the rush of it and he was pretty sure he was going to fry all of his circuits. He thought he felt a brush of wet tongue and he definitely would have stopped breathing if he had the ability to do so. Zavala was kissing him like all he'd ever known was him and this. And when he stopped kissing him with all that raw energy as the Light dulled into something familiar, he glanced over to an amused looking Ikora. Cayde waved his stump at her as Zavala's stood, pulling on his hand. Once he was on his foot, he wound an arm around his back. She came to them, Zavala put his hand on her shoulder and the three of them turned to look at the Traveler in amazement. And just before anyone else came over to them, he stole one final kiss from the titan as Ikora laughed, losing himself in the afterglow and the press of lips.

* * *

 “Take off your cloak and any extra, er, pieces.” The doctor (mechanic??) instructed.

“Um. I only have one arm.” He pointed out, waving his stump around irritably. But he still obeyed, using his good arm to take off the battered gear he wore. Loosening the strap across his chest, unclasping the heavy cloak and one of the nurses (mechanic assistants??) took it from him and folded it tenderly. “Lay down.” He instructed, “we will disable your pain sensors and get to work.”

So he listened, climbing onto the hard table. Seems they had little care for an exo's comfort. Ghosts could mend torn filaments and dented metal and even garbled limbs, but they couldn't repair one that had been shot off like this. His head was cocked to the side as the mechanic-doctor prodded at a little flap that aligned with the strings of cord in his throat. When he got his nail under the edge and got it open he brought a strange device that hung from the ceiling and plugged it in. It was all cord and wire with a small end that fit in pretty nicely, then he tightened the screws and tapped at a keyboard. All at once the warning light that had been flashing in his eyes dulled out of sight, and he felt nothing anymore. Not even the hard table he lay on, it was certainly an odd feeling. He couldn't tell if he was wiggling his toes or not because all feeling was simply gone.

When the doctor-mechanic got to work replacing his arm, first snipping the worn cloth he wore away from the metal, he held his other hand up in the air. “Can you install a gun in there?” He asked, “you know, hand flips down at the wrist and there's a barrel in there.” He was waving his good arm around, he couldn't feel it and only knew he was doing it because he could see it. “Wait, what about a finger gun? Right in the pointer.” He curled his hand into the shape of one, thumb sticking out. “Any if I crook my thumb, bang! Oh oh wait, can it be voice activated? I shout 'bang' and it shoots?”

Needless to say, the threatened to restrain him if he didn't stop moving around so much.

He didn't get any cool modifications to his new arm, or his leg. They hadn't been able to salvage his old ones, the hand had been completely mangled along with most of the connections that kept it working, only small parts of it had been recovered and it wasn't enough to build off of. So while the mechanic-doctor worked on cutting the mangled ends to make reattachment easy, he lulled his circuits into a low hum until it was over.

It felt a different now; the Light inside him. It was stronger and he could do so much more with it. It came to him in different ways, instead of the typical combat uses, he could manipulate the elements like he couldn't do before. At least, not hunters, warlocks were the ones who were good at getting showy with their powers. He could light his palm on fire or send crackles of electricity to his fingertips. It was painless and really cool how he could manipulate it as if it was more magic than just abilities. And seeing as his new room was bland and boring and he didn't really have anything left to dot the walls and shelves with, he got a bit experimental. He put his palm against the wall and concentrated a little bolt of lightning. The result was forked crackled lightning scarring the wall, burnt black with paint peeling away from it. It was 'art', he rationed, if anyone had anything to say about it. He harnessed fire and burnt away at the windowsill, not enough to blacken but enough to create hazy amber and grey swirls.

He knew Ikora would be able to convince him not to do this, so when he left he made sure that she was asleep so she couldn't. She was a woman of reason and would understand that there would be no way to take it back once he'd done it. Prevention was better than the cure, so to speak. Zavala was where the risk came in, if he was caught then whatever was between them was going to die. This was a serious breach of authority, of his position and of everything the Vanguard stood for. He hadn't pressed very much between them in the few weeks it had taken to rebuild. He'd known that it was going to hurt worse if he let their relationship progress. Better to save them both from that, but they were both busy anyways and there hadn't been much time. He knew damn well if he gave himself half a chance he would have pulled Zavala into bed with him the second he had a chance to after the afterglow of their returned Light. One night he'd found Zavala in the hazy evening under the light of the Traveler and had kissed him again with tenderness that might have been love and he couldn't believe that he was willing to risk all this. He told himself it would be worth it.

So he made his way to the old Tower in the dead of night, ducking under all the tape that blocked it off. Be it tape or a fence or a forcefield, he would have got through. The area was quarantined, but a quarantine had never stopped him before. Memories from this reboot were fresher and clearer the longer he went without sleep, but those older ones, the more faded memories or previous reboots, those were the ones he held onto the tightest. Those were the ones that were way up here, and those were the ones he was risking his partnership with Zavala for. His memories were locked away in words he'd written and the objects that reminded him of something, he couldn't bear to lose those, even if it meant losing Zavala.

He was agile enough to climb the ruins, much of a the core of the building had been gutted but the structure itself wasn't nearly as faulty as the warnings made it sound. It took the better part of an hour to get up there, his Ghost highlighting the next place for him to put his hand. She soared up higher than him to find the easiest path and shone her light on the next ledge to jump to. He could have sent her up there alone, have her transmat whatever she could find – but this was a mission he had to do himself, not something she could do for him. She knew better than to offer.

His joints were burning from the strain when he got to the level of the Vanguard chambers. A long line of doors and rooms that so many Guardians came and went from. Other people who were stationed and trapped at the tower had lived here, this floor or the ones below it. The door to his room was shaken almost off the hinges, but his Ghost was vibrating with excitement as he walked slowly while the strain and stretch in the cords of his joints began to recede. He pried the door open and watched passively as it crashed into the weak floor. Inside the room, the window had been blown in, half the wall had fallen, and most of what was in there was scorched. Seeing it like that felt like all the Light in him had been drained out of him again. Stray papers had been curled into ash and crumbled as he walked over them. He ran his fingers over the dust that had settled on the desk, emotional sensors really hammering in that sadness.

Cayde gathered what he could. Memories shuffled across his mind with each one, filling the empty satchel he'd strapped to his back. Books, trashy little paperbacks and thicker, older, hardcover novels and one in particular stopped him. He knew it was old even if he didn't remember. He grabbed it and flicked through the pages. Words written in a square around the page, like a warning,[ _my screaming mouth – no – realigning . . ._ ]he shook his head as if to shake the memory. He held it more delicately than the rest, pocketed it instead of in the bag. He knew that memory had come to him before a wipe, he didn't know when. He'd scribbled it with an unsteady pen. A number of decks of playing cards still in cardboard and plastic wrap was on the floor, some singed. He kept one in his pocket and put the rest in the bag too.

The little he could save felt calming, his mind humming with a satisfaction he couldn't place. Then his Ghost spoke, her voice solemn. “ _Cayde, someone is scanning for you._ ” He knew what that meant, he felt something inside him give, like a gear had slipped. She'd have told him if it was anyone else. He leaned against the wall, scrubbing his hand over his metal face. He took a moment to let the knowledge of what was going to happen wash over him.

“It's worth it.” He told himself as he left his trashed room. He ducked into Ikora's room next; he had never planned on going there but it was too late now, he was caught so he might as well make this worth the trip for someone other than him. There was another blown in window, corner of the room just gone, he searched for the remains of what he knew she had some value in. Old heavy books, the remains of a long feathered quill and cracked inkwell. A collection of lost pendants made of precious stones and old metals charred and ruined by the years. He couldn't save much else.

Zavala's room was the most intact, window was cracked but not broken in, the wall was fractured with spiderwebs of cracks, but it had held. He grabbed a handful of smooth stones, probably once arranged into a delicate pile but scattered over the desk now. A thick leather-bound book stuffed full with papers and an old well-worn journal. He didn't dare trespass any further by reading it. A laugh reached him when he searched the shelf, two delicate little knitting needles that were helplessly tangled in a knot of yarn. He'd given them to him one year, shortly after he had programmed an announcement about Zavala's Crochet Course. An untidy knot at one end, the first two links evenly formed and the next five were clumsy and was then lost in a hopeless tangle. He held it fondly, he had never known Zavala had actually tried it. It had just been a joke.

He grabbed it too and reattached the bag to his back. With everything tucked away safely he began the climb down. And at the bottom – there he was, Zavala levelling his gun back down to the mess of concrete under him. He hopped off a ledge, caught himself at the last second but landed awkwardly with one foot on a rock which caused a spark of pain to rattle through him before his Ghost was healing him. He stood face to face with the Vanguard Commander, meeting his gaze. His sensors dulled and the light in his eyes dimmed, only for a moment. Zavala glared at him like he was everything wrong with the planets and stars above. The ticking in his chest ached, the only thing he'd never been able to trick into shutting down on him was the wide range of emotional impulses embedded into him. It hit him so strongly with that one look he felt his knees buckle, he just tried to stay upright. He'd wanted him, this, for so long. Years. In one action, it was done. He thought to what he carried with him and tried to tell himself just _one more time_ that it was worth this.

“What do you think you're doing?” Zavala demanded, the anger in him seemed to spark along his shoulders with Light in a way it never had before. All fondness he had earlier all those times he'd caught his gaze across the Tower was wiped away. “Do you understand how serious this is?”

“Zavala,” he tried, quietly.

“Everyone who had a place in this Tower has lost something. You should be setting an example, not trespassing into a structure that could collapse at any moment. You are part of the Vanguard and you should know better than this! If this Tower collapsed because you were messing around and killed anyone, it would be on your head!”

“Zavala,” he tried again, his voice a little louder.

“All of us have lost something in the Red Legion's attack and I am appalled that you think you're above all the rest and are willing to risk the lives of the people of the City to salvage your petty little trinkets.”

“Zavala!” He shouted, his voice echoed through the empty structure like a knife to the throat. Sharp, sudden. “I know, okay? I know. Punish me all you want, I knew what I was doing. But if you want to know why I did what I did, you know where to find me.” He was pointing, talking with his arms, trying to salvage his easy-going attitude while the pain pulsed with his circuits. They were more than petty trinkets, they were worth more than that, they had to be now. “This isn't about trinkets, this is much more important, but I really don't think you'd understand.” His voice was sharp because it was easier to let the anger spark around his wires than the hurt, “it was worth it.” He said, one more time, maybe then he'd believe it. He turned on his heel and began to leave, trying to keep his composure. He just needed a little time to sort himself out.

“Cayde, wait.” Came his voice, the anger cooled as quickly as it had risen. “What was so important to you up there?” He asked. Cayde had hoped he wouldn't ask so soon, not while his circuits were heating up while his system tried to cool.

He hesitated for a moment, before he turned, walked over to him again. He pulled that ruined deck of cards from his belt, the top corner singed. “You know what the number beside an exo's name means, right?” He asked.

“I don't see what this has to do with—”

“Do you want to know, or not?” He bit out, voice unusually snappish, he couldn't betray what was scorching within.

“My.. apologies.” He said, exhaling a long breath. “Continue.”

“Thank you.” He started, tearing away the cardboard around the deck, the stress on his circuits caused his fingers to shake. “Look, the number is how many times we've been reset. All our memories wiped. We're still the same as we were, but, it's a fresh slate. It's not perfect, the Light does something real funny to it. You ever wondered why the gunsmith stops in the middle of a sentence sometimes? Why he picks up the conversation to himself? Or just says something, stops, then keeps talking about something else? Try it, go sit near him and just listen to what he mutters. His number is 44. That's how many times he's been rebooted. Just imagine what that would do to you.” He plucked three random cards from the deck and showed him, “imagine this one is the day you were initiated into the Vanguard.” He put the second card in front of the first. “This one's for someone you knew, okay? Someone you might have loved.” How funny that his voice could almost crackle with static at the word 'love'. He then put the third card at the front of the pile. “This is a time when you lost someone close to you.” He stuffed the cards back into the deck, feathered them against his palm to shuffle, then spread a portion of them out. Seven cards. “See any of them in there?” He asked.

Zavala shook his head, he reshuffled. When he showed him another section of eight this time, he nodded with a quick jerk of his head. “Right, you found that memory, then this happens.” Pushed those cards halfway above the rest and closed the deck into one solid pile. Pulled the knife at his hip and cut the tops off, the singed white cards fluttering to the ground between them. Shuffled again. Spread them out again. “See it?” Shuffle. Pull more cards above the rest and cut them. Reshuffle. Realign.

Then he bent down to the burnt white cards between them. “This is a piece of a memory.” He said, kicking one. “Something that reminds you of it but it's fragmented, you're not sure where it came from of where it fits in anymore. All you know is that it's important. Then what? Do it again and again. And when you get rebooted,” his voice shook a little, strange that such a human-like action could come from someone like him. The remaining cards in his hand went up in flames, turned to ash, then he gathered the tops of the cards from the dirt and held them to Zavala. “At the end of it all, that's all you have left. The rest of the memories are gone. Even if you write it down, can't always remember. In fact, you probably won't. Can't figure out when it happened, can't tell it's even your own memory. All you know is that it's gotta be yours because that's your handwriting.” Zavala took the cards from him, held them gently.

He pulled the book from his scarf and handed that to him too. “There's more than what I wrote here, there's always more, but these ones were important. They're old, maybe even the first. When I find something that triggers a memory I need to hold onto it, or I'll forget. I have to, it's the only thing I've got left. I don't even remember what that says. But.. doesn't matter.” He shook his head roughly, Zavala opened the old cover, Cayde took a step back. “I just wanted you to know why.”

This time, when he left, Zavala didn't stop him. He went back to their new Tower, his new prison, and broke into Zavala's room. It wasn't as easy as before, these doors opened with a card but his Ghost hacked in. Once in there, he took the satchel off and carefully unloaded what he'd gathered from Zavala's room. Perhaps the Titan would simply cast it aside, perhaps he wouldn't. Next, he knocked gently on Ikora's door, she let him in and he slipped into the dark room. He set the things of hers he had gathered on her desk, then unclipped his cloak and took off his belt, his gloves, his armour pieces. He lay them on the desk and set the bag on top. Ikora didn't say anything, only watched him. It was only when he had crawled into her bed that she relented, climbing in beside him and draping one arm over him.

He backed up to her, took her hand, and settled into her embrace. She fell asleep again within a few minutes, he just lay there. The lack of movement put his body into a relaxed state, his systems coming to a slow beat, but he didn't find any sleep that night. As the sun rose, hours of agonizing thoughts trickling through his head, she began to stir. He ran his fingers over the back of her hand. He felt her fingertips twitch under his and he rolled over to face her. Her eyes were still closed as she curled into his chest, her hand falling to his hip. He was the one to curl his fingers under her jaw, pull her in for a kiss. Exo's weren't really made for kissing, _other things_ , oh yes, but not for kissing. His mouth was hard angled metal and hers was soft and smooth. She broke away, looking at him with confusion. She'd sought his comfort but hadn't anticipated that he would take it any further. “Cayde?” She started, her hand on his face, concern in the way she looked at him. “What about Zavala?”

He almost wanted to laugh. “That ship's sailed.” His voice was low, rumbling in his mouth, jaw barely moving. “You didn't see the look in his eyes. It's over.”

He kissed her again, desperate and hard now that she was returning his attention, he needed this distraction. This wasn't the first time, but it had been a long while since the last time. He slid the thin shorts she wore down her thighs, pressed his hand between her legs. Her breath stuttered as he slid his fingers against her. She didn't waste time, she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down onto his back. She peeled off his clothes and he admired the look of her thin shirt with her shorts still caught around one ankle. He knew how she liked this. The metal plates and cords that made up his body was a sharp contrast to her smooth skin, he was all tarnished metal and she was flesh and blood. He pushed two fingers into her, she hummed pleasantly before he was moving his hand to himself. Shape, it didn't look much different to humans. Made of something a little different than the rest of the metal his body was made of. He watched as she angled herself, only moved his hand to her hip when he'd entered her. She sank down fully without much hesitation, tight and slick and everything good in the world.

Though the minds behind the exo creation had probably not been aware at the time just how common it was for them to sleep with a non-exo. They'd known that sex was an instinct, animalistic, giving men the option to give themselves to machine without allowing them to get intimate with someone seemed cruel. Ikora set the pace, making her soft little pleased noises as she started kissing him again. He moved his mouth with hers, then moved to nip her throat with the edges of it. As he kissed her, ground his hips up to meet hers as she rolled her hips against him, he did wonder what it might be like if he were with Zavala. What noises would he make in the throws of passion? He'd never know, now, but he shouldn't be thinking about what he'd lost tonight. Her fingernails were scratching at his chest, trying to find a nook where metal met metal to hold onto.

“Thought I wouldn't get this again.” Her voice was a little strangled, words bitten out as she worked her way towards her end. He was about to speak again when her hands flew to his shoulders. “Hold on.” She breathed, her thighs trembling.

He put his hands on her hips and said: “Holding on.”

“Bastard.” She breathed, eyes closed as her hips got a bit more uneven. Her climax hit her hard and she hid her face in his neck, clutching tightly to him, her body shaking as she rode it out. Once the trembling slowed, he put one arm around her lower back and hoisted his hips up, trying to keep them connected while he changed positions.

“Ikoraaa” he half groaned and half moaned, she hummed pleasantly and moved her leg enough so he could flip her over. Once he was on top, he leaned in to nip at her lower lip, she huffed and ran her tongue along the metal plates. He sank into the sensation and let his circuits hum, setting the smooth pace, in and out of her in long fluid motions. One hand was planted firmly on the bed beside her head, the other touching her skin, grabbing her hip or taking hold of her chest. Human skin wasn't as tough as exo plating, he had to be gentle but he knew Ikora liked it a little rough anyway. He sank down, elbow near her head, gripping the sheets with his head buried into her neck. The mechanisms in his groin went off almost without warning, sending sparks of pleasure all through him. Oh _yes_ , they had manufactured this part well.

He lay limp on top of her for a few moments, letting that pleasant buzzing all through him consume him because it was a relief from everything else. She squeezed his hips with her knees and he positioned himself for one last kiss before rolling off onto his back next to her, one hand swiping through the wet mess of their coupling. “I'm not going to ask what you did last night.” She said softly, her lips bitten and a little swollen from his actions. “But I will thank you. I anticipated everything had been destroyed.”

She sat up, climbing out of bed to get dressed. He admired her for a moment before hunting around for her shorts so he could clean himself off a bit first. “Most of mine was lost.” He mourned as he was fastening his pants, “but I found the most important stuff.” He added, fastening his belt, putting the other armour pieces back on, clipping the cloak to his back and pulling the hood back on his head. She gave him a small smile and made for the door. She opened it and stepped into the hall, then motioned for him to follow. No one else was around, they wouldn't be caught. The parted ways outside the door, it was time for him to find Zavala and deal with the situation he avoided last night.

“ _Well, I certainly hope you're going to stop moping._ ” His Ghost said, cheerily, making her reappearance at his shoulder.

“I'm not moping.” He said, matching her cheery tone. At least he was a master at faking it and it always cheered him up to bed Ikora, watching her come undone because of him when she was normally so serious was . “Look, Hunters don't mope, we _brood_.”

“ _Well then,_ ” she retorted. “ _I hope you stop_ brooding _then._ ”

“I'm not brooding.” They emerged into the sunlight, his vision correcting itself from the sudden glare. Zavala stood on the far railing, he glanced at his Ghost for a moment, then began to walk. When he came up behind him, he hesitated for just a moment. Then took the last few steps to stand beside him, putting his wrists on the railing and leaning into it. They both continued to stare at the Traveler above.

“Cayde.” He greeted.

“Zavala.” He responded.

“Cayde, I,” he started, his words slow and careful. “I think it's best if we keep our relationship strictly professional.”

There it was. “Yeah, yeah, that's probably what I was thinking too.” He lied, moving his hands so his fingers could grip the railing, trying to halt the processing that ran over every possibility of convincing him otherwise. His systems were quickly becoming overwhelmed and he wondered if it was possible for it to be enough to shut down the entire tech for a bit. The emotional impulses were so acute it was translating into real physical pain.

“I.. apologize for what happened.” He said, “I lost control of myself.”

“Nah, nah it's fine.” He waved his hand, grateful that he was metal and not flesh, his expression blank as it always was. “I uh, I didn't think you'd. Or, uh, that it would, ya know, happen again.” Even though it had happened again and it could have kept happening.

He couldn't read Zavala's expression and he could barely get his circuits to work. Maybe this was why he didn't chase anyone, it was easier to want from afar than to let this happen again. “Look, I should go.” He pushed himself off the railing and left before he could say any more. Even though this wasn't a surprise it still caught him harder than he thought. He went back to his room, let the door slide closed and had his Ghost lock it and rest his palms on the cool steel, trying to stabilize himself. Trying desperately to stop the emotional processing. Eventually, he sank into his knees and hours later he was pulling his head up from the door. His Ghost hovered next to him, she'd transmatted a blanket over his shoulders, Colonel was near him and he held out his hand for Ghost. She sank gently into his palm, he held her to him without words.

Years, he wanted Zavala. He just wished he had been able to prepare himself for this moment a little better. Wished he hadn't let it get to him this much. She began to speak from his palm, she said nothing of interest, she just spoke. Softly and lowly, he listened in the quiet of the room with the sunset shining in through the window. Seemed like the emotional impulse system could shut down if given enough stress, it wasn't back up yet and the void of it was new. But it was slowly reconnecting now that the worst of it was over. There was a new threat on its way and he needed to pull himself together again, so he picked himself off the floor and left the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for getting Ikora and Cayde together, it was a total accident, I swear. I meant to have them as a somewhat touchy friendship, but as I was writing, things changed. I think that this is, in part, due to the line where Cayde says: "There was that time Ikora and I .... actually she'd kill you if I told you this one, nevermind." 
> 
> It's probably got nothing to do with a physical relationship, but that line coupled with the way he's always talking about her always, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a thing. Even it it was brief. 
> 
> I wanted to give a shoutout to birdbirdbird who left the greatest comment ever, I laughed about Gay Space Dads for a week. I hope you like this chapter, I promise I'll get to getting your gay space dads together again soon.


	4. Two for the Road

They'd looked into the strange signals coming in through Nessus. And now? They were here. He'd reported everything they learned to Ikora, gathered intel from other Guardians out in the field and all their transmissions. Now they were just waiting for her to get here once she found who was going in with them. They'd discussed it already, they had an idea what was ahead. He didn't know what exactly it was, but he didn't think it was going to be like anything else they'd fought yet. Maybe something closer to the Prison of Elders, it was more of an invitation for battle than them sending her off to take down Aksis or Crota. 

Their new Hall was a shiny door just off of the Bazaar, a large window at the back that let light into the dreary room. Most of the overhead lights weren't quite wired in yet, and this Hall wasn't for Guardians to come and go as they pleased anyway so it didn't really matter it was dreary. Which was good, he still didn't understand why Guardians felt the need to walk on his damn table, he meticulously repaired hundreds of maps from all that. But there was always more to be done around here so it was easy enough to distract himself from all that was in his head. Cayde was doing his best to keep himself together as he stood in the room with the Commander and Ikora. He'd drawn up a rough map of the solar system a few days ago on a large sheet of paper taped to the desk, he had a pencil in his hands and was sketching in a few more details. All his old ones were gone but this was a hunter's area of expertise. Hunters knew maps better than the curve of their blade, hunters knew squiggles in the sand, vague hand signals, and a flick of the eyes and a quick lick of the as maps. Points of interest were pencilled in a little bigger but there wasn't much else yet, he did mean to add more to it. Their briefing had him drawing in the Leviathan to the area beside Nessus, the thing was huge, bigger than the planetoid itself from what it sounded like. They'd received an image but he hadn't looked at it yet, Ikora had it already loaded into the projector. The hunter they were waiting for flounced down the stairs without any warning, her cloak new and pristine and flowing out behind her as she moved. “My team is ready.” She said as the three of them looked at her. 

“Ah, Vera's here!” He said with feigned cheer. “Now the party can really begin.” She went completely still, even the cloak at her back seemed to freeze as she stared at him with wide eyes. The room was quiet.  

“ _I'm sorry._ ” Her Ghost broke the silence quickly. “ _That was my fault. I was looking for her when the Tower fell, he overheard._ ”

The strangest thing happened then, Ikora smirked and flicked her fingers at Zavala, who huffed under his breath. “Pay up.” She said, she wasn't trying very hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. It was nice to hear her laugh again, she'd been pulled down pretty hard by the loss of their Light.

He, on the other hand, was flabbergasted. He was pretty sure something might had short-circuited. “Wait. What?” The hunter exclaimed, Zavala sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead.

Vera laughed, they'd been playing this game of just calling her 'Guardian' for so long, she had been nameless as far as he knew. Either unwilling to share her name or didn't have one, he hadn't known. The Vanguard had actually been  _betting_ on it, he didn't even think they knew her name, let alone _this_. “Well, you never did ask.” Vera explained, “Zavala said that he couldn't imagine you wouldn't, Ikora said you definitely wouldn't.” Her cloak fluttered at her ankles as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. One of her fireteam members, an awoken warlock, was coming up behind her. He put his palm to between her shoulder blades as he approached, time seemed to slow as he watched such a tender little motion, he had seen him before but he'd never noticed that kind of softness between them. She turned her bright eyes to him and gave him this little smile and the corners of his lips quirked and they parted to stand next to each other. The moment was so quick, he didn't skip a beat before he was speaking again. 

“Zavala doesn't bet!” He insisted, one palm slapping the table and the other hand waving around at the titan. “You surprise me every day, big guy, what other bets do you have running?” He teased, trying to act like nothing had changed, trying to wiggle his face plates at him. 

“Now is not the time.” Zavala insisted, effectively shutting down his cheer as effectively as a knife across the throat. “We don't know what we're sending her into, we need to be certain that we don't lose her or her team.”

“She's one of my hunters. She's got this, don't ya?” He closed his fist into the shape of a gun, blinking one eye and pretending to fire. “We've got nothing to worry about.” Another hunter was joining the group as they spoke, the team was trickling in. 

“He's right.” The warlock said, his voice a deep rumble that sat low in his throat and _why_ did male awoken get such cool voices? “We aren't going to know what we're getting into until we've actually gone into it.” Another Titan was arriving, female exo, arms crossed over her chest with a sour look on her face despite being made of metal. When the last of her team had gathered, he stuck out his thumbs and forefingers in the shape of a square, framing his hands around them.

“Looking good you guys.” He praised, dropped his hands and motioned to them to gather around, and they did. Nine Guardians looking over the map he'd drawn. He put a finger on the centaur, “this is where the Emperor is. Can't miss it, massive ship, lots of gold.” He tapped the projector in the middle of the table, an image of it floating behind the planetoid flickered into view. The mouth of the ship like the gaping maw of a fish, hungry to swallow it up. “Take them out and don't get yourselves killed, alright?” The picture had been sent in on a scouting missing by another Guardian. They'd known of the approach, but it had arrived a lot faster than any of them thought it would. 

“His name is Calus.” Ikora said, “he was the Cabal emperor.” She tapped the screen in her palm, the hologram on the table switched to Calus himself, a great fat Cabal with wide eyes. “When Ghaul took over, he sent Calus into exile on board the Leviathan, and now with the Red Legion leaderless it appears he's taken over once more. He's extended you and invitation, or a challenge, for slaying his usurper.” He always admired her research, even if he didn't say it.

“Get in, get out, and come back home safely.” Zavala said.

“And bring me back something cool.” Cayde said cheerfully. “Something shiny? Ah, anything really. But bring me back something will ya?” He caught Zavala's glare, flashed him the thumbs up while something akin to actual physical pain ripped through him and said,”and get Zavala something too, I think he's too shy to ask.”

The ten of them went to the deck, six split off to their ships. The Vanguard stood and waited, watching, as their ships shot off into the afternoon. By morning  they'd know how this all turned out. Ikora left without a word, he reminded himself to ask her how she was holding up. Zavala lingered with his hands folded behind his back for a long while, his pale glowing eyes looking at the Traveler rather than the place their ships had disappeared into. Cayde stood next to him, trying to halt his compulsive calculations, 'them' wasn't happening and he needed to lay this to rest. Then Zavala stepped towards him and his hand tapped his elbow and he just about melted into the touch. He let it stay there, then rubbed his palm up, down, up, then settling for the longest moment. “Cayde, it's time for me to get some rest.” The mixed signals were doing his head in and he only nodded, waving his hand off his forehead. He didn't trust his voice to sound anything close to words right now, if he dared talk it would probably just be a static hum. 

Hours later, the next morning, she was laughing over a drink in the little patio in the Bazaar with couches in the open air all while perched on that warlock's knee. His hand was placed on her lower back protectively like he was making sure she was okay. The team had come in for their briefing sometime overnight, reported what happened, and had been thoroughly thanked for their efforts. Ikora had initiated a thirty-six hour period where no vendors would charge them for anything here in the Tower. Vera had told him to find her later as they'd left. So, here he was. She wore a long cloak that looked like something a Psion wore, sitting under the rising sun with her fireteam. When she spotted him, she gave him a little wave with a bit of pink in her cheeks. Awoken pink, he thought, he'd seen that flush in Zavala too. He sat down on the wobbly table, “Guardian!” He greeted, “glad to see you're enjoying yourself.”

“Here.” She said, wasting no time, handing him a slip of cloth ripped from a Cabal and wrapped tight with a length of wire. Once he'd taken it off her she put her arm around the warlock's neck, leaning into him. 

“Aw, you didn't need to wrap it just for me.” He gushed, holding it in his hands. It was heavy, sharp, he spun the wire away and let the cloth fall open. Inside was a shard of some kind of decorative plate stained with a streak of purple and three heavy metal pawns. It shone in the bright morning, and when he touched the plate it connected a scrambled memory like a circuit had completed and lit up again. All the names filtered through his head in an instant. “Oh,” he murmured to himself, staring at it. He'd lost scouts and friends to the Bond Brothers, back when they were still alive. He could never drudge up all their names all at once like this after all that had happened back then. Right now those names were crisp and clear. He hadn't expected her to bring back anything, let alone something that would bring a memory back to him. “Look, I've gotta go.” He said, standing, looking at her concerned expression. “Thank you, you don't know how important this is.” 

She called after him but he wasn't listening.

He got to his room in record time, desperate to get these names written before they filtered away like everything else seemed to. He set the plate down on the desk and grabbed a thick black marker. After he sat he began to write the names down on the cloth. Each Guardian scout they'd lost to the Brothers, one by one, remembering each name and each face that went along with it as he did. He wasn't sure how this had triggered that memory, maybe it was the simple fact that it was Cabal in origin and the memory hadn't been entirely lost yet, maybe he just got lucky. So many had fallen in those red sands. There'd been Salleh and her little band of cutthroat hunters, fiercely loyal and vicious but not quite fast enough. A rougish titan named Astir desperate to prove himself, gunned down by cannons and fire. Many were hunters, biting at the idea that they could be the first, full of bravado and wit and an inability to pass up a challenge. Most of the rest were titans, confident that they would be the ones to ensure safety for the people who relied on them. So many names, so many lost. Vera had finally put and end to them, cornered the crippled pair and destroyed them. If he remembered correctly that warlock she was so close to had been there with her.

He sat there for a long time, certain he had remembered everyone. Some from Andal's time, some from his. He'd never wanted to keep sending them to their deaths, but whenever the Brothers gained more ground they had no choice, but they'd always been told what the risks were. When that bounty went out, he warned them and told them that denying this job was smarter than taking it. They chose to go, their deaths weren't his fault by any means, he did not blame himself. He just knew how important it was to remember them, even if it was just names scribbled on a scrap of cloth. Hunters traversed into danger and darkness to reclaim the cloaks and bodies of their lost companions, titans constructed memorials and honoured them with fire and stone, warlocks were a bit funny about death and there wasn't really a common way for them to deal with it like the others did. Warlocks lost themselves when they lost someone they cared about. 

Cayde grabbed the pawns and held them in his palm. Intricate, heavy, one for each class and carved with the symbols. He pocketed them, he'd go finish the map he'd started and leave them on it. At least if there was anything exo's were good at, it was drawing. Something about being able to process an image directly from the mind like a scanner [ _no – realigning . . ._ ] like a printer from the Golden Age.

The Hall was locked with one of those big heavy doors his keycard opened with a simple swipe. It looked close to the old one, a long table in the sunken centre, monitors along the walls, a big window that overlooked the wilds in the distance behind the City. There were still pens on the table, so he got to his map and began to draw. Started at the Traveler, outlined the small pieces of stone or the machine itself that orbited it, the large jagged chunks that hovered around it, the texture of the cracks and the soft detail of city skyscrapers inside the pale Light coming from it. Then, the curve of the Earth below it. He hesitated for a moment, pen tip hovering over the pencil sketch of the old Tower, and finally began to fill it in. It was still a piece of them, regardless what he'd done there. Then the Cosmodrome walls and the Plaguelands just outside. The EDZ and Old Chicago and York anywhere else he knew. Marking off hunter symbols where he knew packs of them set up camps. Marking warlock points of interest. Marking salvage areas for titans. Marked off the Farm, too. Then to the moon, the Hellmouth and the craters. Venus and the Vault of Glass, the Ishtar, that old track in the Artemis Chasma he was always fond of. He mapped out the planets he'd been to, the ones that he knew had enemy activity. Moons that had something of value, the Dreadnaught in the rings of Saturn.

Hours later, the map had been more or less complete. An array of planets and moons overflowing with information with room to grow.

With that finished, he went off to find Amanda, but not before leaving the three pawns overtop of the Tower. The titan pawn in the middle, warlock and hunter on either side. Something in him was itching. He had kept up the facade of being _fine_ for awhile now, he was good at faking it if nothing else, but he needed to get out of here for a bit. Stare at distant skies and knit his frayed edged back together. Ghosts could do nothing to heal emotional wounds. 

He waltzed into the hanger and found Amanda there, she was up to her elbows in oil with a smear of it on her jaw and splattered on her ear. She had a hammer in her hand and was swinging it dangerously close to her fingers. The sparrow was hoisted up on its side on a metal stand. She eyed him suspiciously when he arrived, he threw up his hands in surrender. “What are you up to the rest of the evening?” He asked.

“Three sparrows to fix, not includin' this one. One ship with a busted wing, and I'm bein' heckled by nosy hunters who think that addin' another engine will make a sparrow 'go faster'.” She said with a sigh, making finger quotes despite the tool in her hand. She sat back on her heels and wiped the sweat off her forehead, smearing oil over her fair skin.

“Ah, excellent. Wanna go to Phobos? I hear there's a great bar out there.”

She gave him a look. That look. Her look. Amanda Holiday's Look™ . The long-suffering look of pity, suspicion, and 'yeah no' she gave him when he'd suggested a test flicked when he dropped a Guardian [ _correction – name: Vera – realigning . . ._ ] onto the Dreadnaught.

“So you're sayin' you want me to leave all my work here while I'm already days behind schedule, just to go to Mars--”

“Ah ah,” he said, hiking up a finger. “Phobos. Not Mars. Close to Mars but, not Mars.”

She rolled her eyes, “so to Phobos, just to have a drink?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Sounds worse when you put it like that though.”

“Here's a deal. You help me fix this mess.” She waved at the sparrow. “And help me get somethin' done tomorrow and I'm in.”

“I'll tell him that thing is toast and he needs a new one.” He countered, “and I'll con someone tomorrow into helping you.”

“As you do.” She said cheerfully, hopping to her feet and digging her hands into a rag to wipe the bulk of the oil off.

“I've got a feeling I'm going to regret this.”

“Oh you will. He made it pretty clear I was ta fix this thing no matter how long it took me.”

“Not if I'm not the one delivering it. And besides, anyone gives you trouble I'll rough 'em up a little.”

She laughed as she washed her hands in the sink, scrubbing them down and bringing her soapy hands to her face. Unaware where the rest of the smears were, but apparently aware they were there.

With a quick check of the perimeter to make sure no one who would care was around, they were off. They bickered playfully on the way, he'd always had such a fondness for her. He was spinning some wild story full of magic (not Light) and mystic and she didn't believe him for a second but he swore it was all true. She laughed as she drove and firmly told him there was no way she was going to fall for his tall tales. Over the years they'd explored many moons and counted a lot of stars. He remembered each star the two of them had talked about together, even if he didn't remember when it happened. 

As they neared Phobos he pointed out where the bar was, it looked like little more than a hole in the ground. He was spouting off coordinates a little too loudly into her ear. She put her hand on his face and pushed him away, insisting she couldn't concentrate when he was shouting in her ear like a tool. When they got out into the sand their conversation shifted and they were swapping stories about what happened after the Light was lost. She told him that Zavala had done his best to make sure she was safe, he'd gone a little overboard about it but had made sure she never had to go down to face the Hive directly. He'd been sure to protect her, to be there for her. He didn't tell her all that happened between them, instead he told her about Failsafe, imitating her voice and trying to convince her that, yes, that is how she spoke. 

The bar was dug deep into a natural cave that cracked into the moon, outfitted with low lights and metal fixtures to keep the whole thing from crumbling no matter what landed on top of it. It had a long and winding entrance, lights all strung up haphazardly along the uneven tunnel, she admired it with a pleased noise. The bar was packed mostly with hunters, though most of the places he went were crawling with packs of them. They were sipping their drinks and playing fast-paced games where cheating was not only practised, but expected. Noise bustled from one corner, Guardians crowded around an argument or a fight brewing between a scorching warlock and a rough and tough titan. Hunters were gathered around them like a pack of hungry dogs, barking their encouragement. He and Amanda went to the other corner where a cluster of squishy couches and worn down tables that looked more like ancient trees hacked flat and small. 

He liked it here, there was an entire line of drinks made especially for exo bodies. All synthetic drunkennes and oils that'd make him smell nice for a day or two. Ones that worked their way into his systems, helped his lights shine a little brighter and eased any grinding gears and provided some lubricants for joints. He was fond of the owner, too, an exo warlock that had malfunctioned on his last reboot. Gone a little off the deep end from it and had decided he was going to settle down and set up a bar instead of fighting out in the wilds. He had been genuinely well-liked by anyone who had ever met him, a free drink for anyone who killed any Cabal that came too close. And Cayde had a pretty high kill count by now, a bunch of bullets and a favour to an old friend was a small price to pay. Especially when it came to free drinks.

Rodger-2 stood behind the bar, dull glowing greenish eyes, tarnished yellow and grey plates, looked up at him when he put his elbows on the counter. “Heya.” He said cheerfully, “how've you been?”

“The same.” The warlock replied, his voicebox had been damaged beyond repair and only half his jaw lit up with pale yellow-white light when he spoke. His voice was cut with more static than words. “How's the Vanguard?”

“Ah,” Cayde replied easily, “the same.” Nothing was the same but that wasn't a conversation he was getting into right now. “Glad to see you're still around after all that happened.” He observed. “Wasn't sure what I'd do without this place.”

The exo's laughter was hollow and at one point it cut out to silent pops and static. “What am I getting for you?” He asked.

“The usual for me, something nice for the girl with yellow hair.” He said, nodding to Amanda, who had struck up a conversation with a nearby hunter. He gathered their two cups, pale amber for her and a bright red for him. “Next time I'm around I'll bring you more supplies.” He said.

“Yeah, look forward to it. Wave if you need another.”

“Will do.”

He handed the drink to his companion and sat down beside her. As much as he may have lamented the loss of expression and real taste and an actual beating heart, this was one feature he wasn't opposed to. Dunkenness in an exo wasn't the same as in a human, their systems ran as usual but the burn of the drink dulled them. It made pleasant lazy misfires common, a stumble here or a knocked over drink there, a garbled sentence or a burst of uncontrolled laughter or random fits of energy. But when it came down to it, his core overrid the 'drunk' sensation, the systems would tighten back up and his mind would clear as soon as he got to driving something. Once he had stopped operating some kind of ship or sparrow (he was still trying to figure out how to ride a sparrow while drunk) the sensors would loosen back up and he would be back to enjoying it. He tipped some of the first drink into his mouth, it's been so long he didn't remember what real flavour was, but these drinks were made strong. They capitalized on what exo's were able to taste and really hammered it in. He could feel the pleasant burn of it and that dull taste of something nutty.

Amanda didn't drink as fast as he did, but before too long the lot of them were shouting and playing rowdy games over the table. Amanda's accent thickened when she was drunk and sometimes he could hardly figure out what she was saying. Her arm was warm against his and she would playfully shove him into the lithe little warlock next to him whenever he said something off-colour. Which was often. He'd thought about asking her if she had anything there for him, anything more than just a friendship. But in the end he thought she deserved better, she wasn't a Guardian and he figured she ought to have someone she could grow old with. Not him, he valued Amanda too much to let her have anything less than perfect. She had started dating some guy from the City once. Cayde had instantly disliked him, sent one of his scouts to gather intel on this guy. Found him to be swindling supplies off the supply trucks and reselling them. Cayde was all for the vigilantism but the guy was a crook. Amanda had taken his advice, and had gone to confirm what he told her with her own eyes. He wasn't going to let anyone less than perfect get close to _his_ Amanda. At that thought he'd wrapped his arm tight around her neck and put his mouth plates against her head in a kiss and she shouted with laughter, squirming from his grip and battering his chest with weak fists because she was just laughing too hard to put any strength into it.

The hunters were a rowdy bunch, but Amanda was just as rowdy as them. They making all sorts of noise and playing new games he hadn't seen before. He'd been away in the Tower for so long that all these games they played were fresh and exciting. So they taught him, a warlock yammering on about how they came up with each trick while the hunters themselves looked at him like a predator watched its prey, licking their teeth in anticipation. He missed the viciousness of hunters who stayed well away from the City, they way they hunted like wolves darting over the snow without leaving even a whisper of a mark. One track of his mind absorbed the words being said, while the rest of him worked on leaning them. Many of the games were close to what he knew already, but the wakening of the Traveler had changed how their Light worked. Now that it was awake, it made the Light more palpable, made it easier to control it as an extension of themselves rather than a combat-ready manipulation of power. It was something warlocks were already naturally able to do, the awakening made it stronger. He did wonder what a warlock could do with it now. 

One of the games had them putting a bit of Light into two of three cards, or stones or any other objects handy, so if anyone touched the wrong one they'd get a jolt of it. The game revolved only around trying to choose the card that wasn't Lit up, or trying not to flinch if they chose wrong. As the drinks got deeper and the number of the empty glasses on the table grew the cards began to detonate because they were all adding too much Light into it. A little explosion of fire or electricity that singed their gloves and curled smoke into the air. Amanda was tough as nails, she had no Light to play with but she was an expert at choosing the correct card. That was until she took the wrong card and didn't even flinch when it exploded between her two fingers in a flash of flame that scorched her skin and bubbled it black. Needless to say she won that round by unanimous cheer that had temporarily deafened him. 

When they left the bar she hung off his arm and laughed like she'd never known pain in her life and _oh_ how he loved that laugh of hers. “Whenever I drink,” she insisted happily, “my mechanical leg stops worken on me.” Which was why she held onto him, the leg had gone stiff and she carried it weirdly. As soon as he got into the ship his core overrid the looseness and he was steady again. Amanda became the absolute worst backseat driver he'd ever encountered as she hung over the back of his seat and waved her hand around his head and told him he was flying much too slow. When they touched down the loseness came back and they sushed each other and made an awful racket under the guise of being quiet as he helped her back to her room, she fumbled with her keycard and he helped her to bed. She'd tacked up posters of sparrow diagrams and had already begin collecting various pieces of machine and tech and had pencils cluttered all over the desk. She kissed his cheek with a laugh and flopped down into it, he brushed hair off her forehead fondly and told her quite sternly to sleep it off.

And for the rest of the night Cayde actually did his job. He was energized by the drink and the new use of Light and got on the comms and sent Guardians on salvage missions, or pointed out where reports of high-value targets were rummaging. In the morning he rigged the game and placed a bet and got two warlocks saddled with helping Amanda with her repairs, a brief rendezvous with her got him the name of the guy who owned the trashed sparrow and conned a titan into delivering the message that it was toast. He was good on his word, even if he didn't handle it himself.

It was mid afternoon when Zavala approached him, that good old disapproving look on his face. “Cayde, due to your unauthorized flight to Phobos, I'm putting you in charge of the factions. Meet me tomorrow, we will discuss further.”

Amanda had, in typical Amanda fashion, thrown him under the bus. The first time he convinced her to leave the Tower, she had outright refused, told him there was no way she was invoking the wrath of the Commander. He promised her that he would always take the fall for it, lay all the heat on him every time. And they still stuck true to that promise; they were only caught galavanting the stars about half the time anyway. The other half of the time they got away with it, or someone simply looked the other way. He needed those trips back then. Most of his old boasts that he needed to get out of the Tower was still supplemented by these outings. Seeing different skies was soothing even if it was few and far between and that was enough. It _had_ to be enough. Back then it seemed like he didn't have much left for him. And now? His yearning had been replaced by rejection but he was beginning to enjoy the work here at the Tower.

That night he retreated to his room and lay directly on the floor until Colonel pecked her way over to him, she fluffed up her feathers and sat next to him. He gently ran his fingers over her back. Then he removed his glove and tried petting her with just bare metal fingers. He he could tell it was silky and he could feel the hard stems of each feather sliding across his hands. His sense of touch was pretty good, but little things like the actual silkiness of feathers fell short. It wasn't like he could remember very well what these things felt like anyway. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read an adorable Cayde/Amanda fic, literally my only complaint about it is that I wish there was more. Go give it a read because it's wonderful. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/10975125/chapters/24437616
> 
> I may or may not have used American Dad as inspiration for one of the characters.
> 
> One final note: if you're interested in any other notes or ideas or thoughts or previews from future chapters, go to my Tumblr. I don't post a lot, but I do post a couple things that relate to this fic. Just look up #fromstars and you'll find anything extra I've done for this.  
> http://ofadyingstar.tumblr.com/
> 
> Thanks again for reading! Our gay space dads will be back with a bit more interaction in the next one! I love you all.


	5. Faction Champion

“The factions have been on my ass since we opened the Tower to the Guardians.” Zavala griped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We've held them off long enough, their recruitment is going to happen with or without our permission at this point.” The factions had authorization to set up an area for themselves in the construction, everyone had been working full force to get the repairs done and they had done more than enough to help in both the reconstruction of the Tower and helping the people of the City evacuate. But they were part of the consensus, they did it gladly without an expectation of reward. They were here to help the City rebuild after they each contributed with their supporters in their own way. But they wanted more, now that they had some kind of stability; they wanted to rally their allies. With the Speaker gone, all this had fallen upon the Vanguard to handle.

It was still hard to look at him, not that he was under any illusion that the feeling would go away so soon. He still vividly remembered that moment before the Light came back. He remembered the way Zavala's hands had been on him in such an unashamed way he hadn't thought was possible.

But they couldn't deny the factions for much longer under the guise of the cleanup, they wanted support and allies and the three of them had met up and discussed what they wanted and then tasked the Vanguard to figure out how to make it happen. It wasn't like they didn't want the factions to continue their business, none of them wanted to deal with the politics of it on top of everything else. Though saying it was put on the Vanguard to handle wasn't entirely correct, they'd tasked Cayde with figuring out how to make it happen.

“The Guardians seem to like it.” Cayde replied, he was leaning at the table and admiring his map wondering if he should get faction pawns made. The class ones glinted in the light. “Sometimes we all need a little something to keep us going, especially after everything that happened.” He turned his attention to Zavala, who still looked tight with irritation. “I think a crown would suit you, though.” He mused, “'King Zavala' sounds better than Commander Zavala anyway.” If he hadn't been dealt the blow of rejection, he definitely would have gone into the City and had the children make flower crowns with him so he could present one to Zavala. It's something he'd have done before this whole mess started. 

“This is true.” Zavala said, “after the Red Legion's attack, our people might need something to align themselves with.” He sighed, “and Cayde, you know my thoughts on that.”

“That you'd rather I shout 'king' instead of 'commander' when we're in bed?” He knew he'd fucked up the second he said it, his damned stupid mouth. Zavala looked at him in a strange way, annoyance cut with grief. He was ready to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Our main issue now is that Guardians aren't spending as much time gathering materials for the City. The demand is higher than what we're getting. The City will suffer if we don't do anything.” Ikora said quickly, he was grateful she was quick on the draw. So grateful he could have kissed her. She had a screen in her palms, a little tablet with data flickering over it. “We may need to continue to deny them until we are able to get a steady stream of supplies.” 

“We used to offer incentives to people who brought in supplies.” Hawthorne said, “or anything, any tricky Fallen we sent someone to take down we offered weapons or protective gear from the elements.” She was a valued member of their group, she had an outsider's perspective that they just didn't have.

“So, what, faction rallies?” Cayde said casually. The room went dead silent, all eyes on him. “What? It wasn't that bad of an idea, was it?”

“I'm impressed, Cayde.” Hawthorne laughed, “that's the best idea I've heard come out of your.. uh, mouth.”

“A rally to increase gains for the City would be....” but Cayde had stopped listening, leaving the table and walking towards the monitors set up on the side of the room, opening a drawer and rummaging around for a large pad of paper. He brought it back to the table and began to sketch a disc-like thing, kind of like a strange coin, just a big bigger and a bit thicker. When the sketch was finished the room was quiet and all eyes were on him. He handed the pad to Ikora.

“Look, we do this, we have to have rules. A lot of extractions and targets are left to roam free, lots of Cabal supplies dropped down to their ground troops could be useful to us. I say we make it a competition. Make a point system, the most points gets to sell whatever they're making. That way we can keep doing it and keep getting supplies for the City.” He started.

“That could work, our enemies get away with far too much. Adding an.. incentive, would help pull in more of what we need.” Zavala replied, standing next to Ikora to inspect his work.

“I agree. So here's what I'm thinking. Press the centre, it sends out a pulse that scans, say, a high value target, or a Cabal extraction. We have enough data to input what the exact threat is, once they take out the threat, they scan it again and translates to points to their faction. Get the factions to make something that'd be worth the effort. But, I think we put a soft cap on it.”

“The City needs these supplies.” Ikora said pointedly, eyeing him.

“And Guardians are tenacious and viciously competitive, some of them would stop at nothing to win. They'll find a way to cheat the system if they can, we may need the supplies, but we also need Guardians. We can't have them running themselves into the ground just for a competition. Say we set the points at three hundred. They collect supplies, shoot things, scan it all with this device, get more points, the City – and the Farm – gets supplies and threats get squashed. Once they get a certain amount of points, we scale those numbers down to make it a bit more fair for the rest.”

“Make it six hundred.” Zavala said. “Three hundred is far too low.”

“That is..” Ikora started, thoughtfully, after a few minutes of silence, examining the sketch. “Brilliant. This could be the solution to our problems.” The look Zavala was giving him was one of admiration and praise, he couldn't seem to get past how much he believed he wasn't going to see a look like that ever again.

“Ikora and Hawthorne can calculate this system and forward that data to you.”

“And I'll get a prototype going, send a Guardian out into the field to test it. Then we get to work on production. The factory district didn't get a lot of damage in all this, they should be able to take the order. But this is going to take time, give it two weeks.”

“They've been pushing for next week.” Zavala sighed, “but very well, I will inform the factions what they need to do.”

Hawthorne turned to Ikora, “I've got lots of data, but it's all back at the Farm. I've been watching the frequency of it all from here, but it's nowhere near what I've got there.”

Zavala nodded, “head to the Farm them, collect your data.”

The girls left, Zavala walked around the table and put his hand on his shoulder warmly and Cayde really wanted to knife him for the damned mixed signals. How could Zavala stand in a room with him so casually after all that? Maybe it was just the heat of the moment, nothing more than their doom right on the horizon and figuring that he was the nearest one to him, and he should get one little bit of closeness to someone before the end. “You've got authority to leave the City to ensure this device works, whatever you need is available to you.” Zavala nodded at him and Cayde watched him leave. When he was left alone in the room, he sat against the table and folded his arms. He shushed his Ghost when she tried to speak, and went to find Amanda.

“Got any scrap metal left?” He asked.

“Maybe.” She said suspiciously, then she smiled brightly at him. “That trashed sparrow's under the hangar, you'll see it.”

He swiped his card at the base of the stairs that led under the main deck, there was a bit of an open area cluttered with bits of metal. It was Amanda's work space when she chose to work in private, rather than up above in the common area. He pulled up a chair and got to work.

Later, he sat in his room with the list of what supplies and thwarted missions would earn, carefully drafted in Ikora's pristine handwriting. She knew he liked notes, liked to give him a hard copy to hold onto. He'd have to create a system that would detect and sort anything new that came up, but that wouldn't be too hard, almost everything they did out here was kill or collect. There was only so much testing he could do from here. Two days of playing with the code, he thought he had it working. The device running as it should, so he went to find a Guardian to help him actually test the thing.

He couldn't find Vera or that warlock he kept seeing her with. But he did come across the hunter who had gone with her into the Leviathan, and asked for his help. He broadcasted a message out to the fields, Devrim was the first to report heavy Fallen activity. So he and the hunter dropped down into the EDZ and he went up to Devrim in the church tower to collect the live data. He sat near him with his back against the wall with the screen in his hand, watching to make sure it was going to work.

“Alright, looks like we've got a high-value target in the Gulch, get there, take it out, and we'll see. You remember how to work it?”

“ _Yep, hit the button before and after the kill._ ”

“Good work, go ahead.”

Devrim lay his gun against the wall and sat next to him, watching the screen. “It'll be good to kick these bugs down some.” He said pleasantly. The first pulse was coming in, they watched it and after only a minute or two, the numbers popped up on the screen. “Did that work?”

“Yes it did. Send him off to do something else.”

“Hello Guardian,” Devrim started pleasantly. “Looks like we've got an injection rig, why don't you go shut them down?”

The numbers rolled in without issue, Cayde was thrilled. “What's next?” He asked cheerfully.

“They've found bundles of Fallen or Hive supplies down into those hunter points of interest, it's new, and as far as I know none of them have been taken out yet.”

“Perfect.”

He only had to tweak that a little bit, but the system he created detected the new input but needed a confirmation to add a number it calculated to it, he approved it and removed that pesky confirmation, this seemed to be working out. Between him and Devrim, they put the Guardian through a mess of tasks. “I've gotta make sure this is going to work further away, so we need to send him out to Nessus.”

“While we sit here, fancy a cup of tea?”

Long distances took longer to come through, but it damn well worked. “That's enough, Guardian, I think we've got everything we can. Come see me tomorrow, yeah? I'll make sure this was all worth your while.”

He had some tea, even though it was weird to drink it. The old chipped mugs Devrim had didn't fit his mouth very well, but it was kind of nice. It was more the atmosphere of it. He sent a message to Zavala, telling him that he'd finished his work and he'd be home soon. But, for now, he was fine here. He wanted to get back to the Tower fresh from the kill, but he suspected Zavala knew he would anyway. Had his Ghost transmat the tablet he'd been working on to his ship and sat with Devrim and got to know him. It seemed so rare for him to actually sit and talk with the people whose voices he heard all the time. After an hour of chatter, he set down the empty cup and got to his feet, shaking out his cloak and drawing the gun from his thigh.

“Now, if you don't mind me.” He started pleasantly. “I've got a date.”

“Sounds exciting.” The man responded, he stood as well and took up his gun. “Does this date, by any chance, involve the Fallen?”

“You know me too well.” He responded, “you ever get to the Tower, bring more of this tea, yeah? Make it stronger though, just for me.”

And oh, how he _missed_ this. He had his Light, he had his amplified power, he had his Ghost at his side and he couldn't be extinguished. With just his gun and a handful of bullets he tore through the Fallen like they were scraps of paper in the wind. He killed the scuttling Vandals that darted over the ground, he killed the Dregs that ducked behind cover because they were too coward to fight, he threw knives into Captain's foreheads and lit his gun and blew through any Cabal unfortunate enough to drop too close to him. Shanks exploded into sparks he dashed through excitedly. 

He felt like something was falling into place. It seems like he was finding his, well, his place. Something beyond paperwork and more than sending Guardians off to kill things or reading reports. He felt like he was more involved, he wasn't just a placeholder who did what he did because he had to, but he did what he did because he wanted to. He returned to the Tower reeking of Fallen ether and ash, that distinct smell of the solar Light he used. When he saw Ikora he grabbed her by the waist and hand and swung her around a few times, she scoffed through her laughter. “What has you so happy?”

“No idea.” He replied. Soon enough Zavala was going to come back around and he was going to be faced with the dull ache of that rejection again, so he was going to ride this elation for as long as he could. But Ikora gave in and danced with him for a few minutes before she 

With the design done, he sent them off to be produced. The Tower didn't seem to be as much of a prison and he was actually beginning to enjoy it, despite the whole thing with Zavala. His memories kept realigning, the decline was definitely back but he was throwing himself into his work without finding someone to do it for him and it was actually helping. He met with Lakshmi-2 first, told her how it was all going to work. She seemed pleased that she was able to both help the City and gain support. She didn't give him much information about the weapon she was offering if they won, but she said they had a few things in the works already. He didn't know if it was a ploy to get him interested in showing his support for her or not, but he was kind about it anyway. He talked to each faction like he did support them, even though he couldn't actually show that kind of bias; nor did he really support any of them entirely. He gave her a list of how many banners they were going to need and the sizes. “Six days,” he started. “Have one of your representatives meet me by the Cryptarch and we can get those banners up.” The banners would be up for a few days before the rally started.

He met with Arach Jalaal next, he seemed rather displeased that it was taking so long to get the rallies going, but otherwise accepting of their method. All of them had helped in the fall of the City, all of them were, above all, interested in supporting everyone, even those who didn't exactly support their faction. Gave him the same set of instructions, six days with all the banners ready.

Executor Hideo was last on the list, who greeted him with kindness. The meeting went quickly and professionally and he couldn't really say anything more, he was just getting it done.

Six days later, six days of tormenting himself with both the coding of each device and pining after someone who didn't want him, he met them. Representative's of each faction decked out in their colours, carrying boxes of their banners. He'd drawn up a map of the Tower and colour coded – blue for Future War Cult, red for New Monarchy, and black for Dead Orbit – and began to work, sending the Guardians to hang each one while he watched to make sure there was no sabotaging of anyone else's banner.

It took a few hours, he listened to their playful bickering. It was nice to hear something so casual among all the Vanguard chatter. Once it was all finished, he did a last walk around to make sure it was all in order.

When the rallies went live it was him, Ikora, and Hawthorne watching the screens. The Ghosts could access the devices and send out the little blip to scan whatever was happening rather than the device itself, something that had been suggested and added at the last minute. It didn't take long for the numbers to start rolling in, Future War Cult took a quick lead but he knew there was no way of guessing who would win. Ikora turned her attention to the screen in her hands, watching the data from the types of each scan came in as eager Guardians fought for their factions.

Ikora gave him a rare smile she didn't often give him outside of their physical relations. “I think you've outdone yourself, Cayde. We're already getting reports of enemy activity halted before it begins.” She said. The four of them watched the numbers and she watched the input of data from the field.

Of course he noticed Zavala entering the room, the door sliding slowly shut behind him. He didn't spare a glance, couldn't bring himself to. But when Zavala approached he felt the press of his palm into his back and thought he might melt into his touch. His hand slid away and the titan folded his arms to watch the data filter through the screen. He remembered the way that warlock had so tenderly touched Vera's back before the team had left, he had his gun at his hip and he thought about drawing it on him and demanding why he was playing this game. Ikora began to talk details, he watched the numbers. He was confident in his code but he still watched for errors, his mind running over endless ideas. 

Everything was going smoothly for the next few days. Guardians decked out in faction colours and arguing over which faction was superior. Running after them and breaking up fights was a job on its own, so he got Shaxx to take charge of it. While he didn't care if Guardians got into a tussle in the Tower, Zavala was firmly opposed. Shaxx happily stalked up to unsuspecting Guardians lost in their arguments and boomed loudly over them “why don't you settle this in the Crucible?!” He was picking them up by their collars like they were howling kittens. It was hilarious. Ikora didn't think so but he was the main cheerleader whenever Shaxx got involved with an argument.

It was day four of the faction rallies when both Arach Jalaal and Executor Hideo came to him, both of them in a twist and fuming. “This is unethical.” Jalaal hissed. He felt rather impartial to the whole thing. Felt like the tender edges of the fine wires under his plating were exposed to the elements, oversensitive and achy. These two were not about to be swayed into getting Zavala to deal with this, but he was in charge – unfortunately this fell on him.

“I will look into it.” He said.

“We want you to stop it.” Hideo insisted.

“Well, I have to make sure they're actually doing something wrong.” He pointed out. Future War Cult had gained a massive lead, and he hadn't thought much of it until he was faced with these two nipping at his heels for him to fix it. He was tempted to tear down all the banners here and now rather than deal with this.

“We know they are,” Jalaal replied, his eyes narrowed.

“Okay, look.” He started, throwing up his hands before he went on another rant. “I can either figure out what's happening or I can stand here and listen to you and not get anything done. Take your pick.” He folded his arms, shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Huffing, the two faction leaders left.

Now he had to go figure this mess out. He damn well hoped Future War Cult wasn't going to win this once he found whatever was happening. They'd probably have his head, or his horn, and accuse him of playing favourites.

He went back to the Hall and inspected the terminal. Future War Cult was winning by a lot, they had almost double the amount of points of the other two factions combined. Something was definitely not right here. When he accessed the individual crest gains, the numbers were significantly higher than they should be. Unless most of the Guardians were running non-stop from the time it started until now, it would be impossible to get the numbers that high. They were in the thousands. The soft cap had been removed, that had to be the only conclusion. His first option would be to wipe their progress entirely, but he knew that wasn't going to work. If he implemented a new code to put the cap back in, it could also wipe all progress. He sighed.

“Ghost?” She floated pleasantly into view, her shell clicking curiously. “Transmat this to my room?” He asked, holding out the screen. The tablet faded off into nothing and he went hunting for everything he was going to need.

“ _Cayde, I am concerned about you._ ” She said, floating along with him as he walked.

“What? Me? Nah.” He said.

“ _You're taking your job seriously. That alone is cause for concern, I just wasn't sure how to bring it up. And I have noticed you've been twitchy sometimes. You're not in the process of–_ “

“No, no, look, it's fine. Just keeping myself busy, alright? I've gotta fix this and it'll be easier to get it done without interruptions.”

She went quiet, still drifting after him. Her silence was unusual, he could tell she was bothered, normally she would push something like this until he confessed to her. So he stopped walking and turned to her. “I'll tell you in a bit, okay? While I fix this.”

She seemed to brighten up a bit, happily transmatting three large screens and another hand-held to his room. He carried the keyboard with him, he could input code without the use of one, but the sound of the keys was calming. Felt like he was doing more than he was when he heard it. When he got to his room, the screens were in a jumble on the bed. “ _Oh, uh, I'm sorry._ ” Ghost said sheepishly, he laughed. She wasn't exactly precise with her transmats, or her revives. He couldn't remember how many times he'd stumbled off of something and she'd revived him in the perfect position to fall right off again. Her record was three in a row, and on the third fall he'd yelled something like 'if it didn't work the first two times, why would you do the exact same thing again?!'

He put the keyboard on the desk, arranged each holo screen side by side and got them running. One for each faction showing real-time faction gains. The orange glow was the brightest thing in the dark room. He opened up the code on one of the tablets, and the second one had the master list of everything happening to do with the factions. “Can you send a message to Ikora?” He asked, she clicked and he said: “Just ask her to broadcast a message to everyone that the faction system is going down for half an hour to an hour. Give it two minutes.”

Within a minute, the broadcast went live, both from his Ghost and from the speakers in the hall. He created a backup point for all the faction numbers as they were. If he screwed up, he just had to restore it. He waited two minutes, then created the restore point. With that done, he got to work on changing the code. “ _Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”_ Ghost asked, he sighed.

“Do I need to say it?” He said quietly. Her shell sagged in sadness. 

“ _Are you sure?_ ”

“Pretty much, yeah. Once everything here slows down it'll creep up on me.” He tapped a few letters absently, “I know you've seen the misfires.” He said quietly. “Things keep realigning, they're not too often but, but it'll get there. You still remember our protocol?”

“ _Yes, I do._ ” She said, sadly, drifting over to him and settling down onto his shoulder. Nestling between scarf and shoulder plate.

“It'll be fine. I think I've been through worse.”

She said nothing, he kept working. Colonel was waking up, fluffing up her feathers and running her beak through them. His room had a little deck, this time, he had cut a hole in the wall so she could get outside whenever she wanted, he'd put a bunch of wire over the railings so she wouldn't fall off. She was no Guardian, if she fell there'd be no coming back. Ikora had firmly told him to leave his chicken in the room, when he had protested that command she reminded him that Guardians were fond of kicking things.

The animal came over to him and he reached down to scoop her up, setting her on his lap. She fluffed up again and settled down, so with the Ghost on his shoulder and the animal on his thighs, he kept working in the quiet of his room.

His first attempt at implementing the code wiped all faction numbers, he cursed and restored the data and tried again. Reworking it from the beginning. Occasionally his Ghost would click back into life and point out an error or a typo. The second time he ran the code, it worked. Future War Cult's massive lead dropped dramatically down to just under New Monarchy's numbers. He sat back, pleased with his work. He scratched the back of Colonel's feathers affectionately as he turned the faction crests back on. “Want to pass on a message to Ikora? It's over, Guardians can collect again.”

When the rallies ended, he was glad Future War Cult didn't win. If they had, he was sure there would be hell to pay from the other two. Even though something didn't sit well with him about Dead Orbit, he was glad that the Guardians seemed to enjoy it all. The bickering in the Tower got a little worse the day it was announced, but quickly cooled; especially with Shaxx chasing arguing Guardians around. He got them to put up more of their banners everywhere and had the other factions take theirs back. Once the next one came around, they'd do it all again. The others were pleased with the increase in supplies and the squashing of threats.

Cayde was lounging in the little nook off the Bazaar, along the staircase. Someone had set up red pillows and a little flower he suspected had been infused with a little bit of Light to keep it from dying. He had a book in his lap and the chicken beside him. He'd made her a little blue harness and a leash that attached to his belt so she wouldn't get too far away from him. Guardians couldn't kick her if she was by his side. He didn't look up when Zavala approached him, did his best to avoid it anyway. Every time he saw him it was like the pain of death without the actual relief of it.

“Cayde,” he started, professional as ever. “I wanted to pass on the praise I have received from your command of the faction rally. I will admit, I am” he paused, chewing on his words. “Impressed. Hold onto the equipment you took, I believe it will be useful the next time we do this.”

“Right-o, Commander.” He replied, not looking up. Glowing blue eyes focused on the book and nothing more. His vision was wide enough to still see the solemn look on his face. He flipped the page, kept reading. The tension was obvious, but he couldn't place what exactly put it there. Eventually they'd get back to normal, like nothing had happened. He just had to wait it out and hope his soreness faded in time.

Zavala left, his Ghost floated in front of him. “ _Cayde._ ” She said impatiently.

“Not now.” He grumbled, she huffed.

Later, in his room with the book finished and tossed onto the shelf, she tried again.

“ _Cayde-6, stop moping._ ”

“Hunters don't mope.” He replied.

“ _Stop brooding, then._ ”

“It's fine.”

“ _It isn't._ ” She pointed out, annoyed. “ _Is this about Zavala?_ ”

“I'm not talking about it.”

“ _I know you told me not to tell you things like this but—_ “

He put his hand on her and pushed her away. Gentle yet firm, she was hovering close to his face to annoy him into speaking. She made an annoyed noise and darted back to him.

“ _I mean it! You need to liste—_ “ He pushed her away again, feeling beaten down and bruised even though he couldn't actually bruise and hadn't done anything strenuous enough to cause it.

The noise she made was angry, she came back to him again with her shell clicking in irritated impatience. “ _Listen to me!_ ”

He pushed her away a third time and the noise she made was outraged. “ _Fine! You don't want to hear what I have to say, fine. I'll go, I wasn't sure how to bring it up but it's been long enough now, you idiot. It might even snap you out of this._ ” Her shell was clicking furiously, he wondered if she'd start to smoke if she got too riled up. “Y _ou can sit here and be miserable on your own, I'm not having any part in your pity party._ ”

“Wait.” He said, echoing the sound of a sigh, a prang of sadness went rippling over him and he held out his palm for her. “I'm sorry, okay? I know you wouldn't want to tell me if it wasn't important.”

She glowered at him for a moment, why did Ghost's get more capacity for expression than he did? “ _Better be sorry._ ” She huffed, floating over to him and hovering over his hand for a moment before dropping down into it, he suspected that she'd driven herself down as hard as she could in protest. “ _I've been trying to tell you this for weeks, you know_.” She pointed out, “ _Zavala only told you he thought you should keep your relationship 'professional'._ ”

That stung. “Yeah, I'm aware of that.” He griped, ready to shoo her away again.

“ _That's not what I'm saying! I'm trying to tell you that he didn't tell you he didn't like you. You don't see the way he looks at you when you're not paying attention._ ” She paused, floating back out of his hand. “ _Which is all the time._ ” She pointed out helpfully. He also wondered if she may have spent too much time with Failsafe.

“What?”

“ _Are you an idiot?_ ” She asked, he laughed.

“Probably. You think he didn't mean it?”

“ _I think he meant it, but only because he had to. You did just break the rules when he told you that. We both know how Zavala is._ ”

He sank into thought as she floated off, looking positively pleased with herself. He hadn't thought it was possible that there was anything left, he hadn't stopped to think after 'we should keep out relationship professional' that maybe there was more to it than that. Zavala was always the final word who couldn't and wouldn't be swayed, he'd just assumed that it applied to this too. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started writing a few offshoots from this, just little stories before this one that give a bit more information. That and I was out of service for a week so I decided to just write. There's one from Amanda's POV, one from Cayde's, and one from Andal's. The Andal one is going to be a bit of a monster, and I'm probably going to hold of submitting it until the second DLC hits. I have a lot of thoughts and theories about Andal Brask that we might end up seeing, so if you want to discuss these ideas my Tumblr is ofaDyingStar. 
> 
> The attitude shift in this chapter comes from one of Cayde's idle dialogue, he says "I never thought I'd enjoy working in the Tower this much." It's kind of cute that he's starting to enjoy it now, he only ever complained before. I also have theories about Cayde. 
> 
> I don't have much else to say, sorry guys. Thanks for all the comments and the love, you guys are awesome. Really makes everything seem less shitty when I get one of those emails.


	6. Victory Lap

Saladin arrived late one afternoon and greeted Zavala like an old friend. He said he wanted to get the Iron Banner going again and no one really had much of an issue with that. Saladin had hosted it for a long time now, he didn't need any direction or guidance like the factions did. It was only a few days after the rallies ended and the Banner was set to start in another week and a half. When it started he watched a couple matches, got really into it and walked away with a bit more glimmer than he had before. He cheered Vera on when he noticed she was taking on the challenge. Sometimes she took a few members of her team with her, but mostly she was a lone wolf who wordlessly acted as either the unofficial leader or the cleanup crew for her team. Saladin's oversight of the event was entertaining too, his deep voice definitely made for an interesting dynamic. Shaxx was loud and harsh and Saladin was approving and kind. He did wonder if maybe the two of them would make up one day, it had been long enough by now. Zavala only told him off three times for his gambling and Ikora covered his ass at least four more times on top of that. 

After the Banner had finished and Saladin took his leave, they all resumed their normal lives.

He had been thinking about what his Ghost said. Mulling it all over, it was strange how his mind worked, he really thought that an exo would be better suited to a warlock, not a hunter. Exo minds could trample over seemingly endless possibilities and he somehow just  _knew_ how to latch on to any of them. That longing sadness that had been so embedded into him was shifting into an entirely new monster and he found himself itching again. Zavala's words were still sharp and pointed, but there was something else there now that he was looking for it. Zavala was loose with his touches, he'd never really been that way before. A pat on the arm on his way by, that one-time press of his palm into his back, or even a clap on the shoulder. Okay, so maybe some of that could just be friendly. He was too mixed up to figure it out, but he was back on board with the whole thing again and most of him wanted to just go for it rather than keep being miserable. He was bold and brash when he had it, but before that? His bravado only went so far. He'd already faced rejection once, and it hadn't been bad enough to get his systems to restart. He got through it just fine, so, what was holding him back? If he tried again and got rejected again it was no different than the first time, but just maybe there could be. 

That itch inside him that really hit hard once the excitement of the event faded and they all got back to their 'normal life' routine. He'd had a taste of the kill out in the EDZ and a calming moment with a man who lived by the sniper he carried. Devrim was confident and warm and he really couldn't say enough good things about him. But that itch grew, he had to get out there again. Even if he didn't spend the whole time killing, he had to get out and do something. Hunters didn't belong inside City walls, as much as he was genuinely enjoying his work now (when had that happened?), he still wanted this. Maybe, this time, going out into the wilds was keeping him sane. He'd been able to stave off most realignments lately, hadn't had a misfire in awhile now. So he did the only thing he could think of when he needed someone's help with something – he went to find Amanda.

As soon as she saw him she put her hands on her hips and gave him her Amanda's Look™ while saying “What do you want?” He held up his hands in surrender.

“Nothing! Nothing! Come on, I don't have to need anything to come say hi to my favourite shipwright, do I?”

She rose an eyebrow at him, he waggled his eyebrow plates in return. She pointed a finger at him “you look ridiculous when you do that.” Her laughter betrayed any sternness she was going for, “what are ya here for then?”

“I was just wondering if you needed anything,” he started casually. “Parts, or, I dunno. Materials? A jar of air from Venus? A bottle of sand from Mars? Maybe some leaves from Nessus? Anything?” She gave him a blank look. “Something that you need,” he paused and gestured to himself. “Yours truly to fetch for you.”

She said nothing, only stared at him. He sighed and confessed the whole truth of it. “I got a taste of it again. The wilds. Killing. You gotta help a guy out.”

She sighed, resting her butt on the metal table and tapping her lower lip in thought. Then she grinned. “You 'member those hunters insistin' a sparrow with two engines would go faster? Why don't ya give that a test?”

“That sounds dangerous. I'm in.”

“Think they'd let you go?”

“Ah, Zavala's sweet on you.” She scoffed but her cheeks went the palest bit of pink. “He'd let you get away with anything.” He knew damn well that Zavala wouldn't be fooled by this ploy. He just had to hope that they'd be okay with it anyway. Zavala had seen enough hunters to know by now that they didn't like staying here. As long as two of the Vanguard were still here to oversee everything there was nothing to worry about, and Hawthorne's presence was just an additional bit of leadership they all needed.

“This is ridiculous, but I'm in. It'll probably explode as soon as you try moving.”

“Ah, it'll be fine. What's a Ghost for anyway?”

It took two days for her to build the prototype and get it road ready for test drives. On the second day the two of them met with Ikora and Zavala. Ikora laughed and told his Ghost very pointedly to record the first explosion. Zavala asked, “why Cayde?”

Amanda had replied with “he's the only one dumb enough to agree to test something this volatile.”

Zavala didn't buy it for a second, but Cayde was throwing up his hands in feigned exasperation at Amanda's statement. When he looked at the titan he was narrowing those bright eyes at him and, oh boy, something about that look made him instantly _hard_. He stopped thinking entirely beyond flashes of daydreams and all the things he'd been imagining doing to him. The arousal was so sharp and instantaneous he nearly fell over. 

“Cayde?” Ikora was saying his name and Zavala had that flush on his face again. He came to staring straight at the awoken and gave his head a little shake, he seemed to have lost track of time. 

“Was I saying something?” He asked nonchalantly. 

The next day he had clearance to go and his wires were tight with anticipation. He'd test the sparrow quick just to get it done with and then he'd be out in the field again, just him and some bullets. He touched down in the Artemis Chasma on Venus. He'd been here before, a long time ago. Last he knew it wasn't active anymore, but he had a fondness for the spot.

The track was officially called the Artemis Venture, but they all called it the Gauntlet. It was a thirty-five hundred kilometre track, a sparrow race that was more about endurance than winning. Death meant the run was over. It started in Behn among the ruins of a Golden Age shanty town, the buildings still stood strong despite the years and the winds. Most of the track followed the edge of the chasma itself, a deep groove cut into the planet in almost a perfect circle. The track out of the town was fine enough, racers jockeyed for position before they got to the woods. That was where things got hectic. The trees hadn't been cleared or cut away for it, not even the edge of the cliff was safe because they'd been growing so long the trees grew sideways off of it. The roots of them grew so deep into the earth it made the soil loose, one day he wouldn't be surprised if the whole forest slid right off into the gulch below. The rest of the track didn't get any easier, and getting to the lake was another way to pick off the remaining eager Guardians. Move too fast, the sparrow would ignite in the bittersweet orange waters. Move too slow and the sparrow would sink. After the lake the track would curl over to the ridge on the outskirts of Bonnevie, the heart of the old city wedged in a crater, skyscrapers sinking down into the soil in a kind of beautiful sadness. It was a steep climb to the ridge, the last time he'd gone over it he had got too cocky, went too fast. Didn't account for the strong winds enough. The rest of the track, beyond that, was dotted with what remained of the city and dodging that was a lot easier than the forest. Fewer Guardians that far along. It took two full days to finish the course, if not three. He'd been pushing hard and was nearing the end of the second day when his sparrow blew. That death had stung worse than the others, knowing how close he'd come to finishing it.

So he didn't go to the track itself, that wound was still sore, he went above that old starting line to Janyl. There were rivers crisscrossing the area here, tall trees and the city here was mostly in ruin, battered by storms. It was as good a place as any to test this out. If he had enough time he'd run the Gauntlet solo, just to say he'd finally finished it. But the track was probably overgrown by now, there wasn't likely to be anything left of it anymore. He wasn't even sure why they'd stopped running it, something might have happened, or maybe everyone just lost interest. In all likelyhood it was probably because of the induction of the SRL, everyone wanted the quick win, no one wanted endurance.

He got the sparrow out in front of him and eyed it suspiciously. That was, of course, until off in the distance bright white flares shot off into the sky with a pop and a crackle. He drew his gun, for now, he was going to get his usual sparrow to see what was going on. The sparrow Amanda had put together looked like a bit of a monster anyways, his was small and speedy. There was an explosion, shrieks of pain echoing off the crumbled walls behind him. “Gonna have to put you on hold, Amanda, looks like something's going on.”

“ _Why am I not surprised?_ ”

He didn't reply, he got on his sparrow and shot off towards the flares. When he got closer he heard shrieks of laughter and stopped worrying as much about what was going on over there. There were mountains in the distance, he headed towards them. Trees in clusters, long patches of grass and plants growing wild. He soared over all of it until he got to the clearing. There must have been thirty Guardians in the clearing, shouting amongst themselves. Wood had been hammered into the ground in a straight line, thick ropes crisscrossed between the posts with coloured banners tied to them seemingly at random. The centre had been marked off by a messy line of white paint, on either end were more messy lines, scrubbed up by eager boots kicking their sparrows off. Two Guardians sat on their sparrows on either end of the ropes on opposite sides. They had long spears tucked under their arms.

Someone blew a whistle, and they raced at full force toward each other. He watched the titan aim his spear into the other lane, above the ropes, the hunter aimed her spear at him too. When they collided in the middle, she was knocked off her sparrow and went tumbling into the sand. He was hit square in the chest and his Ghost was reviving him. Cheers were echoing into the mountains. There were a lot of titans here, a lot of hunters, a handful of warlocks. He walked up to them and one of the hunters eyed him up critically. “Well look who it is.” He taunted. “I knew you couldn't stay away from the wilds for long, Cayde!” The hunter was Arien, he'd spoken to him a few times. His taunt was playful. “You finally cut the Vanguard free?” He asked, his long pale hair was tied in a messy knot at the top of his head.

Cayde laughed. “Nah, nah, just out for the day. What the hell are you doing out here?”

“Hastilude.” He said cheerily.

“Hasawhatnow?”

“Take a long stick and try to knock the other guy off the sparrow. Extra points if you kill him. Jousting. On sparrows.”

Oh, he was _so_ in.

But he did need to take care of what he was authorized to leave for, so he shouted into the crowd “does anyone want to test a new sparrow?!”

A hunter female he didn't know agreed, shockingly it didn't blow up as soon as she started moving, but it didn't seem to be any faster. So he got on his sparrow and challenged her to a race around the clearing, there were other people taking their places on either side of the arena. She readily agreed and they raced a large loop. He had to give a bit of credit to Amanda, it seemed to do just fine and actually did end up being the littlest bit faster than his. If the whole design wasn't so heavy, it might actually work. He left the sparrow to the enthusiasts and took up his place to try this whole hastilude business. So with the spear under his arm and held tight as he could, he was ready. He hadn't really spent enough time watching how the winners held themselves so he was going in pretty blind here. When the whistle sounded, he began to move. He was hit hard in the chest with the pointed tip of the spear while he had only knocked the other hunter's shoulder back harmlessly. His sparrow spun out of bounds and his Ghost rezzed him.

Warlocks had got ahold of Amanda's sparrow and were tinkering with it, bickering the whole time. He was fairly confident that if there was anyone who could make this work, it would be a group of determined warlocks being egged on by a pesky hunter. 

“ _Cayde?_ ” the Ghost said, hours later. Hours of winning and losing and placing bets on the others and really just enjoying this game. “ _Incoming transmission, Zavala—_ “

“Ah shit.” He said, quickly stepping away from the others so their shouts wouldn't be heard. “Yeah, connect him.”

“ _Cayde, I don't think that 'sparrow testing' takes this long._ ”

“Ah, yeah, had some modifications to make in the field.” He responded easily. “Ya know, the usual.”

“ _No, I don't know. I expect you've had other.. adventures. But your presence here is needed_.”

A trillion possibilities in a second and every last one of them came back to the same thing. His systems were working on overtime, high from the game and flashbacks of the shards of wood piercing his chest. All he could think was one thing, all he could say was one thing, he didn't have the capacity for anything else. “Zavala, I need you..” he paused, letting the words hang for that brief little moment so maybe he'd get what he meant. “I need you to meet me in my room in two hours.”

He ended the transmission, didn't wait for a reply, cursing to himself. It was here and now and that was it. He jogged back to the warlocks and passed on Amanda's information, so they could confirm their changes with her directly. He bid goodbye to the others, trying not to feel like a child that's just been told to go home. At least until Arien called out to him "what, your dad's telling you to come home?" He mocked, this taunt had more bite to it. He remembered that sentiment. Up until he met the Vanguard before him he had the same attitude towards them. 

"Actually," he called back. "I'm about to go get laid, so, have fun sucking the dirt from your teeth out here!" He turned around and kept walking, leaving them to their business. He had more important things to think about. 

An hour later he paced the floor of his room endlessly, twirling his good deck in his fingers obsessively. He felt like he was close to either violently misfiring or finishing in his pants. Maybe both. The knock on the door was sudden in the quiet in the room, it was almost deafening and he stopped moving, staring at it. Readying himself with a sigh that was just for show, he put the deck down on the desk. “Open it.” He said softly to the Ghost that hovered anxiously near his head, and she did. The metal door whining as it slid open and Zavala stepped in looking more than a little uncertain. He stepped into the room and once the door had closed behind him Cayde simply just stopped thinking. If he stopped to think, he wasn't going to be able to do this. He just had to act. Here and now, this was it. 

“Zavala,” he said desperately, bouncing on his heels as he walked towards him. Cayde quickly crowded Zavala up against the door before he had a chance to second-guess himself and put his hands on either side of his face and kissed him. Zavala did not hesitate, he returned Cayde's affection eagerly and pinned himself against the door using Cayde's body to keep himself trapped there. Holy  _shit_. His legs felt weak, his systems were going crazy. It was entirely possible he'd been thumped over the head back there and was just dreaming this whole thing. 

"Finally." Zavala hissed into his mouth in a way that felt like longing. He was dreaming, he knew it, this was too good to be true. "You have bent every single rule around here." He started, his hands were moving up from his hips to his chest, to the belt that crossed over it. "Everything but the one I hoped you would." And oh, Zavala was undoing that belt and was digging his hands into his hood to find one end of the scarf so he could take it off of him. He got to work too, he put one hand on each of his shoulders and fumbled with the clips awkwardly until one came undone and the chest plate sagged to one side. The other took more effort, weighted down by the metal itself. He put his hand on his neck and the other under his arm to find where it tied up there too. When it came undone Zavala was undoing his cloak and he was pushing the metal to the side. The thick leather vest he wore under it had no give, Zavala was dragging his tongue over the ridges of his mouth and dipping into it. 

He grabbed ahold of the zipper and got it half-way down the titan's chest before he was being manhandled backwards until his calves hit the bed. He nipped at Zavala's lips and got the vest undone, Zavala was shedding his shoulder plates and working his belt off. Zavala got his hands under his top, finding the smooth planes of metal plates that made up his body. He was pushed down to the bed, he made a soft yearning noise and watched him shrug off the armour protecting his arms and shrugged off the vest. Then they were back to kissing, Cayde dragged his hands along the soft fabric of the red sweater he wore. He relished in the way it stirred and rippled with his touch and all he could feel was firm skin under it. He whispered his name, he pulled the sweater free from his belt and worried he had gone too far when Zavala grabbed his wrist. Instead, Zavala brought Cayde's hand up to his mouth and bit the fabric of his glove while pulling his hand away again. He'd never seen anything so damn good. He repeated the motion with the other glove, the haze of arousal was almost too much to bear. 

He found skin with bare hands and lost himself in this. He hooked a leg around Zavala's waist and rolled his hips, whimpered at the responding press. He was struggling with the belt but once it was loose enough he wasted no time in dipping his hand into the front of his pants, Zavala's breath stuttered at the touch. Later he had his back tucked against his chest and Zavala was pressing lazy kisses from the side of his head to his shoulder. Cayde couldn't be happier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good work, boys, now just keep this together and it'll all be fine. 
> 
> I drew up an outline of the track on the Artemis Chasma, google a NASA map of Venus and you'll see it; I've always been drawn to that spot. It is posted on my Tumblr (@ofaDyingStar), if you want that visual look it.
> 
> Lots of big stuff coming, stay tuned. Everything falls into place (or apart) when Curse of Osiris hits. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos I love you all and I'm so glad you enjoy it.
> 
> One final note: I have made a few minor edits to earlier chapters for continuity so everything all aligns with everything else.


	7. Sweet Memories

Amanda Holliday was nowhere to be found, but he was on the hunt. He was walking aimlessly through the Tower and his Ghost was surprisingly quiet, she had been moody with him since he and Zavala had finally gotten off together. He knew that it wasn't going to be smooth sailing between them, but the Commander had yet to retract his interest. He wasn't about to run off and get the Hunter's Vow going or anything, but he was in good spirits and he had some pretty high hopes. Hopes had some pretty steeps cliffs on either side of it, he knew this so he just had to be careful. But after everything that had happened and all the moments and points of contact that had transpired he really couldn't be too down about this whole thing. It was elation to strut through the Tower like everything had finally worked out. Though he still couldn't find Amanda anywhere.

He went to the Bazaar and found Ikora's workstation empty, she liked to read in the open air or meditate with her nose tilted to the Traveler above. Cayde admired the thought for a few minutes before he was turning on his heel to the Hall. Amanda didn't have much to do with the consensus unless she had an issue she wanted to bring up. Suspicious characters, weird-looking supplies, or any shady deals offered to her were passed on to them, but mostly Zavala dealt with that. The two of them were communicating constantly, typically he presented anything they'd found to the rest of them.

The door to the Bazaar opened and the first thing he noticed was that all the lights were out. The only sources of light were the back window and Light swirling across the ceiling. Little coiled balls of solar Light flitting low over his head like birds, orange flames like dust echoes of galaxies hung high against the ceiling. She had created an entire set of solar systems up there, the little balls of Light looked more like stars then birds now that he was looking. And it _felt_ like Ikora, and he really couldn't describe what that felt like, he just knew it was her. But he wasn't so in tune with the Light like warlocks were, even if he could manipulate it like an extension of himself now. Even then that wasn't because he'd trained the skill, the awoken Traveler did that for him. 

The table in the middle of the room remained where it was, but a plastic sheet had been placed over his maps with another deep purple tablecloth settled on top of it. Couches had been dragged into the areas away from the sunken centre alongside all the shelves and monitors. All the screens were off, though a few of them had little lights that still blinked. He was excited about the couches above all, he had wanted a couch in here for so long! The girls sat on a large blanket right under that large window, the Shipwright and Ikora. Their conversation had stalled when he had walked in, but after he'd admired Ikora's display he flounced over to them. “Ah! My two favourite girls!” He said cheerfully.

“I'm pretty sure we're the only two who tolerate you,” Ikora said casually while sipping her tea. He clutched his chest as if he'd been shot in mock outrage.

“You wound me, Ikora, plenty of people like me.”

“Oh, we know,” Amanda said without any effort to his that shit-eating grin on her face.

“Oh boy.” He said, taking a few steps onto the blanket and sitting down next to them. Though he did want to go laze around on the couch, he was really eager for that in the next couple weeks. 

“So, Cayde,” Ikora said with her eyes focused on the drink she was lowering from her lips. “I hear you finally slept with Zavala.” Oh, she was evil. How did she always know everything?

Amanda snorted into her cup and choked on her laughter, Cayde just spluttered. “Don't kill her!” He said, waving a hand in the air. But Amanda was _so_ not going to be on his side for this, he knew that. Maybe he was trying to earn some Good Cayde Points™. “And excuse me?!”

“You and Zavala.” Ikora simplified, raising an eyebrow at him. “Finally had sex.” She spoke like she was trying to explain the science behind jumpships to a toddler. There was an undeniable twinkle of light in her eyes and he scoffed. “Zavala's out there actually smiling instead of brooding and you've been prancing around like you solved all the worlds' problems.”

“Yeah, you guys aren't exactly subtle.” Amanda added helpfully, her cheeks were pink from coughing so much and she had a goofy grin on her face. “You've been making puppy dog eyes at each other for months, let's just say we've been cashing in.”

“How do you know I haven't solved all the worlds' problems?” Cayde asked pointedly. Amanda burst into uncontrolled laughter until she started coughing again, Ikora's shoulders were shaking from her suppressed laugh too. He just hung his head into his palm, these girls were going to be the actual death of him.

“Speaking of the worlds' problems,” Ikora started, once she'd got ahold of herself, Amanda was wiping her eyes and still in the process of recovering. “You're early.”

“Early? For what?” With that, his Ghost made a sudden reappearance.

“ _I've been trying to tell you all day!_ ” She snapped, he could almost see smoke coming off of her. “ _Every time I tried to tell you it was 'oh no not right now' or 'hold on just give me a few minutes'_!” She looked flustered and he reached out to her. Grumbling and fuming, she darted out of his reach and over to Amanda and hit her scarf so hard the girl almost fell over. Amanda's hand protectively covered his Ghost and he felt a twinge of guilt.

“It's the Festival of the Lost.” Ikora said as Amanda was soothing his flustered Ghost. “We've all been too busy to dedicate any time to plan it, this kind of thing needs a lot of preparation. Levante normally handles all this, but with her choice to stay at the Farm..” she offered a sad smile to her cup, then looked back at him. “I couldn't let this day go by without remembering all we've lost.”

Sombre, he nodded. “Yeah, yeah.” He sat back, this was always the thing he didn't like thinking about. No one liked losing anyone and Cayde did everything he could to remember, but it was the act of the loss that got to him. The killing, the death. He'd heard too many last breaths and final requests in this lifetime and the next. There weren't as many Guardians now, he'd always thought that a bigger Tower meant that there'd be a false impression of how many people were actually around. But the numbers told no lies. He remembered seeing all these lonely little Ghosts back at the Farm, missing their Guardians and congregating together for some kind of solace. He hoped they were all able to get back to their Guardians in the end. 

“Don't worry, Cayde.” Ikora said, that smirk was back on her lips. “Zavala is coming too.” He just spluttered at her in response. 

The sun was beginning to set when people started to trickle in. Food vendors from inside the Tower itself were bringing little snacky things he quickly became interested in. As they were gathering Amanda and Ikora were folding up the blanket and folding it on top of one of the couches with ruined upholstery. Eventually, his Ghost came back to him. She hovered near him, her pieces of shell drooping a little. He grabbed her out of the air and apologized. He didn't choose to ignore her that often, he couldn't fathom what had been more important that he'd brushed her off this time. He needed her, she was good at picking up social cues he ended up entirely missing.

Zavala showed up dressed down for the occasion, wearing that soft red sweater Cayde liked so much. He could sense a bit of tension, Zavala only spared him a glance. They were in a room that was quickly filling with all these people he cared about and neither of them wanted to appear over-eager. Not that Cayde cared, if it would be at all socially acceptable for him to throw himself into the titan's arms he would do so in a heartbeat. Or a chest click, that was the best he had.

Devrim was seeking him out and he would have grinned if he had the capacity to do so. The older man was handing him a thermos full of something warm. “Just for you.” He said, all the firmness normally pinching his face was gone and replaced with a softer look, he looked calmer than normal. He was thrilled about the drink, he didn't think that he'd even remember this promise. Extra strong tea, just for him. “Hey, where's Mark?” He asked, looking around for a face he didn't recognize. When they'd sat together, Devrim had shared stories about his partner waiting for him back home. The expression on the man's face flickered. 

“My apologies, Cayde.” He started, his voice had lost that cheer and just sounded tired. “He passed away a few months ago, I've been catching myself talking about him as if he was still around. I suppose it was easier to pretend he was still waiting rather than face the truth.”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” His voice matched Devrim's sad tone.

“Nothing to worry about, my friend.” Devrim clapped him on the shoulder. “It has been some time, now.”

Ikora's Light display got brighter as the sun fell. The low murmur of conversation was soothing, pleasant, but there was an air of sadness behind it all. When people stopped trickling in some of the plates were being cleared away and Ikora and Amanda were carrying a large sheet of paper, the same type he drew his maps on, to the centre of the table. Pens were placed alongside the sliver of fabric at one end and his shoulders sagged as some of the crowd began to write down the names of the companions they'd lost.

He walked over, Ikora pressed a pen into his palm and briefly clasped the back of his hand. He stood over the paper, she had written her list of names in her narrow printing. He started on his own list, wrote down the name 'Andal Brask' in his neat handwriting. Then 'Tevis Larson', Salleh and her pack, Astir, then the others. He kept the names to the faces he remembered clearly, the people he'd shaken hands with, the ones he had been friends with. 

Zavala was across from him, writing his own list. Taeko-3, other names he didn't catch. He handed his pen off to Amanda, who gave him a watery smile and drew in a heart beside Andal's name, he slung an arm around her and she laughed and shrugged him off. “Quit bein' a pest, Cayde.” She said affectionately. 

Saladin's arrival temporarily distracted the group, and that was mostly because he carried an armful of squirming and whining wolf pups. Efrideet followed behind him, a few more of them in her arms too. He set them down and the animals took off running through the crowd, yipping and scratching their nails over the hard floor, he walked over to the titan and greeted him and he fell into place beside Zavala. “Two litters,” Saladin explained. "A few of the parents didn't make it when we lost our Light and the Fallen came. It was all we could do to keep them alive.” One of them was sniffing at his boots and he scooped it up, cradling it to him as the animal stuffed its nose up against his face. But the animal was far too interested in all the new smells and sights around here and squirmed relentlessly until Cayde set it back down. "We thought it would be good for them to socialize, see some new faces." 

As Saladin and Zavala spoke, he turned his attention to the room. Amanda and Hawthorne were in a somewhat intense argument about something, they'd got ahold of some napkins and were comparing sketches and having a very vibrant discussion about shotguns. Knowing the two of them, it was probably more of an argument over which one was better. But neither girl seemed to take their argument too seriously. Especially whenever one of the wolves came bounding up to greet them, they'd coo over it until it got bored of the exchange and went to find more people to investigate. Then the girls would be right back to their conversation.  

It wasn't any surprise when Vera and her warlock companion came in, both of them dressed a little more comfortably than they normally did. What was a surprise was the beeline Vera made for him. Intent and forceful, she weaved through the crowd. He recognized what she was offering as soon as she stopped in front of him. It was in the way she stood and the hand she extended to him. She stood with all her weight obviously on her left leg and offered him her right hand. Holding her hand was an offering, standing with her dominant limbs on opposite sides of her body meant that it hadn't been an easy task. The most peculiar thing was her hand, she'd taken off her glove. This offer had something personal to it, something intimate.

He hooked his fingers under hers and put his thumb between the first and second joint between her first two fingers. Taking her hand was simply polite, his thumb position was understanding. He bowed his head and brushed the metal edges of his mouth against her knuckles, that was acceptance. Her amber glowing eyes focused on him for a long moment before she was removing her hand from his and retreating. A note was left tucked under his thumb. When he found the chance to read it, it was a very brief message. '— _meet me along the wall, midnight, between the old one and this one._ '

He searched the room for Zavala, it had certainly been enough time now for them to at least speak, right? Or had Zavala actually changed his mind? He was talking to Ikora when he came over and slung an arm over his shoulders, “Heya!” He said cheerfully. “How're you doing, big blue?”

Ikora nearly choked with laughter, then quickly composed herself with a short noise from the back of her throat. “Excuse me.” She said politely. Zavala eyed him with a look that very clearly said: 'Cayde, why?' He ignored the look, and instead directed Zavala off to one of the empty couches. Zavala didn't resist, he sat next to him.

“Cayde,” Zavala started, choosing to look around the room rather than him. “Was I wrong to assume that,” he paused, chewing on his words. It looked like he was struggling to say something, but he thought he liked where this was going. “That you and I.. would continue to..” He took a breath, Cayde helpfully interjected with:

“Sleep together?" 

Zavala stiffened at his brazen lack of discretion. “Uh. Yes.”

“You're not wrong,” Cayde said, leaning into him a little. Zavala put a wary hand on his chest, he was uncertain. His uncertainty about this was adorable. “I just thought you might want a bit of space before I pounced.” He didn't intend to have a note of seduction in his voice. Or maybe he did, his systems went a little sideways when Zavala was near him. He leaned into him, pushing against the hand on his chest.

“Not here,” he murmured, but his eyes were looking intently at him and he felt the steady press of his hand relax. The titan pressed his lips into a thin line to hide his smile, he took a quick glance around the room then boldly leaned in, kissing him gently and briefly before pulling away and clearing his throat. Satisfied, Cayde sat back a little bit. Something in the room changed, then, Ikora's Light had been so steady all this time but something _else_  was making itself known. A ripple of arc Light, charged and snapping, was rumbling from somewhere in the room. Not enough to overtake Ikora's, but enough to be noticed. He looked up, curious, something about it felt familiar but he couldn't pin down where. 

“Zavala, do you feel that?” He asked.

“Yes?” The titan said, glancing at him.

“Feels.. familiar.” He murmured, “hold on, I think I found it.”

He patted Zavala's knee and got up, close to the monitors along the wall Devrim stood face to face with a helmeted warlock. Their heads were bowed together and the way they stood looked akin to intimacy. He walked over to the pair and noticed that Devrim's hands were clamped around the warlock's wrists and his thumbs were pressing small circles into his palms. The warlock took a step away as if to leave but Devrim held him still. He could see the ripples of arc Light running up his arms. Bolts of Light were cackling almost out of control until he got near enough to hear them. The Light stilled but the feeling of it remained, little jolts of it was still crackling between his loose fingers and the back of Devrim's hands. “Hey, who's this?” He asked, feigning cheer. There was something weird about the warlock who had his helmeted face pointing to the sniper rather than to him. 

“This is a friend from the EDZ.” The man said pleasantly, looking at the warlock for a moment before looking back at him. “Forgive him, he's a strange one. Uncomfortable in crowds, doesn't like noise unless it's a handful of bullets.” He watched the warlock curl his long fingers in ill-fitting gloves down over the thumb in his hands. “He had a bit of intel from the field for me. Warlock,” he turned his eyes back to the stranger, “this is Cayde-6.” The warlock looked at Cayde. 

When the warlock spoke, his voice sounded odd. It was cut with static and popping like he spoke through broken speakers. “Good to see you, Cayde-6.” It sounded a lot like forced kindness. “But it's time to say goodbye, I need to move on.” 

Devrim was loosening his grip on the warlock's wrists, the warlock took a few steps backwards and turned around. Unhurried and slow, he was leaving the area. Devrim turned to him. “Was that an exo?” He asked.

“I can't be sure.” He replied, watching the door he'd left from. “I've never seen his face.”

Something was still strange. “Was that a warlock?”

Devrim rose an eyebrow at him, the expression reminded him of Hawthorne. “Cayde, would you ever wear warlock robes?”

He scoffed. “Couldn't catch me dead in them.” He stated.

“Would you ever find Zavala wearing warlock robes?”

“Warlock robes are essentially dresses, so that's a resounding 'no'.” He paused, “ah, I see your point.”

Devrim looked back at the door. “He is a little strange, yes, I don't know what he's been through but I can't imagine it's been very pleasant. He sticks to himself and gives me information on occasion.”

“What was he telling you about?”

“More of those strange glowing Fallen out there.”

“Get in touch with me tomorrow, I'll send someone to look into it.”

Devrim gave him a pleasant smile and Cayde returned to Zavala and filled him in. The presence of the strange familiar Light was gone but he stopped caring about it when Zavala stuck his arm under the small of his back all while pretending he wasn't touching him. He was trying to convince Zavala that he actually had, once, befriended an Eliksni. And no, it wasn't Variks. Amanda came over to them and flopped herself down next to Cayde, she seemed to have got into the alcohol and he spotted Hawthorne and Ikora discussing something in furious whispers in the corner. Amanda flung her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek and Zavala looked at her fondly, “okay you need to get to bed.” Cayde said sternly, big brother mode activated. She laughed.

“No, no, am fine.” She insisted, bright eyes looking up at him.

“Don't make me carry you there.” He threatened, but she gave him Amanda's Look™ and he relented. “Okay don't make me make Zavala carry you there.” She let out a bark of laughter. It was at that moment his Ghost floated over to him, peering at him.

“ _Cayde._ ” She pointed out. “ _It's getting late._ ” Vera was nowhere to be seen, her warlock companion remained.

“Alright, let's get you to bed.” He said, he stood up and she still clung to him. When he got to his feet she let go of him because she wasn't nearly tall enough to reach his shoulders. “Hey Zavala?” He started, he looked at the titan and the titan looked at him. “Meet me in my room in an hour, alright?”

A hint of pink touched his cheeks and he nodded, Amanda elbowed him in the side and he grabbed her by the elbow in mock sternness. She just continued to laugh and squirmed from his grip. As soon as they'd left the room, her entire drunkenness faded. She had a few drinks but wasn't nearly as silly as she'd presented herself. “Okay, what's the deal?” He asked.

“I just wanted to tell you that you and Zavala look cute together.” She said, walking easily in front of him. “And your Ghost asked me to remind you at midnight that you needed to be somewhere, _and_ with you cozying up to Zavala like that I figured you might need an excuse to get out of there.”

He looked at his Ghost, who remained expressionless. She was always expressionless, technically, but she still made her emotions obvious. Her words both made him swell with love and appreciation for her all while piercing into him because his Ghost didn't trust he would listen to her. That little revelation made him sad, he hadn't ignored his Ghost that much, had he? “I am going to go to bed though.” She said. “All those names, it's draining to think of how many we lost.” Her smile was sad. “There were a lot of people whose names I didn't even know, I feel pretty bad I didn't remember them.”

He put an arm around her as they resumed walking. “Don't worry about that.” He said. “I forget things all the time.” That brought a chuckle from her. 

They parted ways at the elevator that would take her to her room, he kissed her temple tenderly and watched the doors close behind her. Then he turned to his Ghost. “I'm sorry.” He said, she looked at him sadly. She almost looked deflated, or maybe just defeated. “Have I really been pushing you away so much?” He asked softly.

“ _Yes._ ” She responded, he didn't understand why he would. In all the times he had been rebooted, she was always the only one he knew. Memories of her were always the easiest ones to find.

“I won't do that anymore, okay?” He promised, she floated over to him and brushed up against the back of his extended hand, “yell at me if I do, okay? Make it as embarrassing as you want.”

She sighed, the noise so long and drawn out that he grabbed her out of the air to quiet her down. But she seemed content with him holding onto her so he carried her until they got out to the cold breeze along the wall. He spotted Vera in the distance, sitting on the ground under the railing. When he got near, she stood. She was wearing her gear again, but she was a hunter and they always felt more comfortable in their armour. “Hunter.” He greeted.

“Cayde.” She responded, eyeing him. Awoken's were always so intense when they looked at someone. “I found something you might be interested in.” She knelt down under the railing and pulled a bundle of something wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. She handed it to him, it was paper. “The first one I found had both Ikora and Zavala's names, I figured they were journal entries. Caught wind someone found a few more of them, wanted to use them to squeeze some glimmer out of you. Y'know that warlock? He got them for me.”

“How?” He asked, if this was what he thought it was, there was only one unaccounted for. If this was it...

“You ever saw a Voidwalker in action?” She asked pointedly.

“Fair point.”

“We put them in order best we could. There's a whole lot of it still missing, found a lot of pages completely unsavable too.” 

“Did he help you find them?” He didn't dare to wonder what she may want in return for this. 

“No, that was me. Found them or who had them and he worked his magic on anyone who didn't want to hand them over.” She was folding her arms over her chest, resting her hip against the metal railing. Her cloak was catching in the breeze. 

“This is a lot of work on your part.” He said, he wasn't going to open it but he knew what it was. He knew what this contained.

“I don't want anything in return if that's what you're asking. Hunters hunt, I did it gladly. You set me on my path to the Dusk Bow, I can't tell you how many times it's saved my ass, and his. But,” she was untucking her pistol from her thigh. Blood red and gold and he thought it was a Better Devils but couldn't be sure. One of Shaxx's guns. “Something interested me in there. Don't think of this as an obligation, I don't want a mentor.” She slid the gun back against her thigh and resumed her leaning against the rail. “I've seen you do it yourself and I read it, but I'd like to learn how to Light my own gun rather than summoning one. I tried a few times but I couldn't do it.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay, yeah I can do that.” He said as he was eyeing the paper in his hands. It was the least he could do and she didn't want any more obligation than just learning the technique. He'd mentored Shiro and the exo had surpassed him quickly, he had no doubt she would too. He knew he wasn't the best hunter out there but he learned a few tricks somewhere between then and now. “Look, I've got a date I should really be getting back to.” He said. “Thank you, this means a lot to me. I'll be in touch, hunter, stay safe out there.”

She didn't say anything, she only nodded as he made his retreat. Zavala wasn't waiting for him so he had enough time to put aside the journal fragments and get prepared. He'd already removed the trickier parts of his gear when Zavala knocked. Once the door closed behind him all of the previous hesitation and nervousness he had given way to aggression, the last time they'd done this it had been a bit of a frenzy. A rush to get that first time out of the way, no more than hands. Months of tension between them had broken in an instant and neither of them had thought there was enough time to even get properly undressed.

This time there was no real hurry to it, they'd slipped quickly into that comfortable companionship that came when two people had been together for a long time. It wasn't much of a surprise, they'd known each other for years, everything they did felt natural, they knew each other's quirks and habits. Zavala was aggressive but took his time, bringing Cayde onto the bed and climbing on after him, Cayde scooted backwards and Zavala crawled over him. He settled into the sheets, running his hands over the sweater. He was squirming out of his clothes and Zavala was investigating the way all the pieces of his chest and stomach lined up. The plating that shifted and moved as he did and the smooth black material that gave way when pressed. Experimentally, Zavala was running his fingers over him, examining him.

It was a little strange to be looked at like this, the titan was memorizing how he worked. He was looking intently at him and running his hands over every little piece of him, he felt both exposed and thrilled that he was taking such an interest. Zavala got him entirely undressed while he was still completely clothed, but he was still running bare rough hands all over him. There was softness in his expression as the aggressiveness fell to the side and it turned into simple exploration. Cayde was helpless under his touch.

But he really did want more than just this, he reached to him to tug the sweater free from his belt but Zavala sat up on his knees instead, pulling it off himself. Then he was removing the thin undershirt and Cayde got a good look at him. Muscles rippling under smooth pale blue skin every time he moved. He was removing his belt and Cayde's systems skipped a few signals for a second while he watched him undress. Zavala braced himself with a hand on his knee as he dragged his pants down his thighs, this was the first time actually seeing him fully nude. He'd got his hands on him last time but it was more impressive than he remembered it feeling.

He put his hand on Zavala's chest as the titan crawled over him again, drifting his hand down the centre of his body starting at his colar and leaning up to him to bite his lips again. Fingertips ran down the firm line of his stomach and down to the cock hanging between his legs. Zavala's sigh was halfway to a shiver as he used his fingers to stroke from base to tip.

But Zavala seemed to hesitate now, stuck to just exploring the inside of his mouth with his tongue and his one wandering hand. The pieces clicked in his head and he grabbed that hand and wormed his legs further apart to drag that hand between thighs. His systems were all in a bit of a fog as he tried to guide him by touch alone, eventually pressing Zavala's fingers against where he thought it was. Once comfortable with the intimate place he was in, he withdrew his own hand and let the titan to his exploration. “Yeah, there.” He hummed, waiting for it. “Somewhere. Just keep—“ The tip of his finger slid into him and he made a startled yelp of surprise that reduced to a whimper. Zavala seemed a little alarmed at what he was feeling but quickly began to investigate this new area of his body he'd discovered. 

Zavala had his head bowed to Cayde's shoulder but Cayde was just lost in it. A second finger was sliding in and he found himself saying, “yeah, yeah do that.” He was squirming and trying to move into the touch, get it deeper or faster or more or anything, it was all this slow movement. “Zavala.” He murmured impatiently, his fingers trying to find a place he could hold onto. “This is great and all but could you—oh.” He broke off as those fingers _curled_ and sparks of pleasure shot off through him.

His words were seemingly useless so he started to drag his mouth over skin, he was biting hard enough to leave bruises but Zavala had his head to the side to allow him to continue. Each nip and bite seemed to get him to move a little bit more. But he was getting the impression that he was way more interested in investigating that part of him than actually getting around to penetrating him. He whined his name again, fingers scrabbling helplessly down his back. Zavala sat up enough to look at him and Cayde almost burst into uncontrollable laughter at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, naked as he could possibly be without Zavala taking him apart, his legs spread wide open with his fingers hooked inside him up to the knuckle all while giving him that same look he gave him whenever he cracked a joke mid-meeting. 

With that look on Zavala's face and his apparent interest in getting to know his body without actually getting around to fucking it, he was taking matters into his own hands. “Okay, no,” he started, Zavala looked mildly confused. “We're doing this.” He insisted, he forcefully grabbed the other as he removed his fingers and knocked the arm that kept him up with his elbow and using the loss of his supporting arm as leverage. He pinned him down to the bed and straddled him, knees up near his ribs. He wasn't going to give Zavala a chance to continue his torturous exploration, he arched his back and reached under his thighs and fumbled around until he got a hand around him.

It was a weird position for him to be bending into but he was pretty flexible for an exo, but that might have been because he was a hunter. It took a bit of poking and prodding until he was able to get the angle right, settling with the head just barely breaching him. Zavala's hands flew to his hips as Cayde braced himself and lowered himself down. Zavala just breathed, his nails digging into his exoskeleton as he fought to keep himself from making any noise. He was already jotting it down in his head and making it a personal goal to see just how many noises he could draw from his mouth.

His circuits were in a frenzy, he hadn't even moved yet but he was already getting a bit of a tremor in his limbs. It had been a long time since anyone had done this to him, he'd almost forgotten how good it was. He bent down to Zavala as he was sitting up, balancing on one arm and letting his lips drag over his mouth. His other hand went to his lower back and used that as leverage to move just a little bit.

Zavala had probably never had sex with an exo before, which would explain his careful examination and how quickly his aggression melted off. He wrapped his arms around his neck and carefully uncurled one leg out from under him, trying to keep their bodies still joined. Once he had both his legs somewhere near his back and him sitting comfortably in his lap, he sat with his arms still around him. He looked down at Zavala looking up at him, they'd stopped moving as they got caught up in something way more intimate than just sex. Zavala was reaching up to lay his fingers on his neck with his thumb on his jaw while his other hand went back to his lower back. They were face to face when he started moving.

But while Zavala got used to how it felt to fuck an exo he also got busy using his mouth to memorize his throat. Zavala cupped the back of his head to encourage that action. They were rolling their hips in sync with each other, trying to keep the movement steady, they fell out of sync a few times but picked it up again quickly. His mind was going pleasantly haywire as if he were intoxicated by the awoken in his arms. He heard him make a strangled noise when he adjusted his hips for a new, apparently better, angle. That's what he wanted, his range of movement was limited when he was at the mercy of that firm hand on his back. He tried it anyway, sliding a little bit faster to try to pull more noises out of him, Zavala made a low noise at the back of his throat akin to a growl. “Oh!” He found himself saying as Zavala clamped arms around him and got to his knees, Cayde's arms and legs clamped tight around him. 

The aggression was back when Zavala pushed him back down to the bed, he whined unhappily when he slipped out but Zavala was guiding himself back in and moving with quick, shallow thrusts. His head was hanging off the bed and he lost track of where his hands were but knew they were against his pale blue skin. There was a warm hand clamped tight around his thigh and he thought there was another one under him or around him, he couldn't tell. He was quickly losing control, all words were wiped from his mind, Zavala was breathing hard as he slowed his thrusts down to slow deep pushes. His fingers were sliding over sweat-slick skin.

He came with a startled noise when Zavala quickened his pace again, his mind flickering and his vision blinking out for a few seconds. He let his head hang off the bed, seeing stars and completely void of energy. The titan bent down to kiss his chin and waited for Cayde to become responsive before he began to move in him again, Cayde just held on and uselessly twitched his hips to hopefully encourage more of those lovely little noises. Zavala's climax had him stiffening while clutching Cayde tightly to him, hips still pumping weakly, making these delicious noise that came from deep in his chest. 

All he could hear was the sound of his breathing, his neck was beginning to hurt from trying to keep his head up. “Hate to break the moment, but I'm kinda hanging off the edge here.” He said cheerfully, Zavala only grunted in response from where he was crumpled around him. Instead of moving or getting up he blindly reached up to cradle the back of Cayde's head. He sank into the touch and the faint little sparks that kept echoing through his cords. 

Eventually Zavala was slipping out of him and pulling Cayde to sit up. He was on his knees and bruises were blossoming in crisscrossed lines along his collar, he was looking down at Cayde, lips parted and swollen. “Briefly,” he started, the usual authoritative notes in his voice. “I thought I had found a way to shut you up.” He tried to look offended but Zavala was cupping the back of his neck and pulling him in and smiling into the kiss.

The next morning was bright and he was in an exceedingly good mood. He got in touch with Vera and agreed to meet her on some sandy desert somewhere on Earth. Clearance was given, everything was good to go. The other two seemed happy he had moved into that whole 'taking my job seriously' mentality. Maybe he was just getting better at faking it. Zavala was still sending him those annoyed looks but there was this sudden fondness in them that hadn't been there before - kind of the same way Ikora looked when she teased him. As he was preparing to go Ikora looked troubled and Amanda was grouchy and Hawthorne kept giving him these pitying looks. He was all sorts of confused about why all the girls he liked the best were in bad moods.

He was just glad to get away for a bit and leave Zavala to their mercy. He only got a warning look from the Commander when he approached him to see if he could steal a bit of affection before he left, so he settled with knocking their knuckles together before walking off. When he passed by Amanda she only waved at him while making it very obvious she was too busy to see him off. He took the hint; he waved at her and continued on.

As they were approaching the ocean he turned to his Ghost. “Okay, did I miss something?” He asked, “I didn't brush you off again when you were trying to tell me something, did I?” 

His Ghost made a strangely pleased noise. “ _I missed it too, none of them seemed bothered last night._ ”

They were crossing the shore and flying out over open water. He'd get there soon enough, it was all barren land and dead trees rubbed raw from the wind with dry riverbeds cutting through the old dirt. “ _Cayde, we should get above the cloud cover._ ” His Ghost said, worry in her voice. They were high enough to be just under the clouds, too far above the water for anything to happen.

"It'll be fine!" He said nonchalantly, but he tipped the nose of the ship down a little bit. Just enough to see the dark waters below them so he could tell himself and reassure his Ghost that they were too high up for anything to happen to him.

Then his systems went sideways.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop. I'm sorry, Cayde. 
> 
> And I'm sorry to you too, Devrim. 
> 
> I did a bit of digging into this and some of the things I found were a little strange. In the EDZ there are two couches, but no sign they'd be used to sleep on. I don't think I've ever been to the EDZ at night, either. From what I've gathered, he goes home every night save for the occasional evening where he'd end up on one of those couches. So I found when he says "I miss you so much" a little strange. Why would there be so much longing in that phrase if he saw him every night?  
> Well, maybe he's dead and talking about him like that was his way of coping with that loss. My deepest apologies, Devrim, but I had to do this. 
> 
> The journal fragments Player Guardian finds are all located here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12862779 
> 
> Hopefully this chapter makes up for the last one. Thank you for reading all this~


	8. The Gateway

[ _realigning . . ._ ]

Nosedive, [ _darkness, suffocating_ ] plummeting, dials going crazy, vision tilts on its axis [ _crushing, pressure_ ]

[ _realigning . . ._ ]

Inky black water cut with white foam, [ _light above fading fast_ ] hands locked on controls [ _something in the water_ ]

[ _realigning . . ._ ]

Coming to, pulling back as hard as he can, careening off to one side, his fingers **crack** [ _sinking deeper and deeper – pressure at critical levels – core splits_ ]

[ _realigning . . ._ ]

[ . . . ]

[ _realigning . . ._ ]

Smoke billows off a busted wing, everything is quiet. Alarms are beeping and he’s aware of it, but he can’t hear it until it begins to register as loud and annoying. Vision doesn't turn on but fades in from static. There's a Ghost – his Ghost – fluttering around him and he tries to grab her but his fingers are broken backwards at the knuckle. He can barely flex his fingers.

She heals him and he closes his hand around her.

Everything rushes back all at once — he jolted forwards, gasping for breath he didn't need. “ _Cayde? Cayde!?_ ” She was flicking her shell uselessly in his hand, he looked down at her and eased his grip so she could dart up in front of his face. “ _I was three seconds from pinging the City's emergency line._ ” Her voice was frantic and she fluttered nervously around him. He just leaned forward, resting his head on his folded arms over the steering column with a distressed whine.

“Fuck.”

“ _We need to get to shore. Quickly, it isn't far away._ ” Her voice had obvious notes of desperation in it, still flitting through the air like a hummingbird. He didn't even know what a hummingbird was at that very moment. “ _Now, Cayde._ ”

He sat back, the engine was still running and he had no idea how long he'd been out for. All sorts of errors were beeping at him, both internal and external. Lights were flashing and his head was aching. He cut the engine, it would probably blow if he kept running water through it and honestly at this point he would welcome that _gladly_. All the alarms faded into quiet when the ship stopped running but the warning red remained in his vision. Water sloshed against the sides of the ship, a trickle of it from a crack in the hull while the whole thing swayed back and forth with the waves. “How?” He asked, a desperate edge to his voice.

“ _You might have to swim._ ”

“No no no, no, I can't do that.”

“ _Cayde! The ship is already taking water. I will ping the City's emergency line, you're just lucky I cut the connection as soon as it happened._ ”

“No, they can't know about this either.” She was right, there was water gathering on the floor, he pulled his feet away from it as best he could. Fear and panic were overtaking his systems now, he needed to get out of this ship and he had his hands scrabbling at emergency releases before he tried to calm. He needed to _think_. If he got out it would take in water more quickly and they were going under fast, if he stayed here it would eventually pull him under anyway. “Ghost..?” He asked helplessly. He was still squirming his legs to keep him from touching the water that was quickly rising. The only reason he could stay calm now is due to the knowledge that he was about to get completely ruined. 

“ _I can try to transmat you out but.._ ” She looked ashamed and he grabbed her, holding her close. He knew her transmats didn’t always work out, but it was his only route.

“I trust you.” He said, “get me as close as you can to land and I'll just.. look, we don't have any more options. I trust you.” She looked as frightened as a Ghost could look, he rubbed his thumb over one of the edges of her shell trying to offer comfort he couldn't find himself. He braved himself for the worst. 

He landed in the water with a splash and went instantly numb, his knees were in the sand [ _no — pebbles — realigning . . ._ ] and he was grabbing at the little stones under him and trying to pull himself free. There was only enough water to splash his shoulders but his head was spinning as he thought he saw pieces of his body furling outwards [ _no exterior damage — realigning . . ._ ] There was something pushing into his back, something small and pointy and maybe it was just his Ghost. He tried to shuffle forwards, towards dry land, his hands scrabbling at the little stones. Waves washed over him. He was _panicking_ , his systems were running at higher than full blast. He couldn't think, he didn't need to breathe but it felt like he was suffocating. He couldn't do this, he couldn't handle this, he couldn't _—_

[ _error — system restart . . ._ ]

It must have only been a few minutes, there was the bright eye of a Ghost in front of him and he grabbed her and cuddled her close. “ _I'm here, Cayde_.” She soothed. “ _I'm here._ ” He just held her tight, he was okay. He was still alive. It took him a minute to realize he was sprawled out in the grass. Long and wild rough strands of it wrought with sandy yellow weeds and husks, there was a man with wavy black hair and deep blue eyes standing over him with a worried look on his face. It took him a long time to figure out who he was looking at. He sat up quickly, his joints didn't grind and everything moved just as it should and he wasn't sure why for a moment. Water meant _—_ [ _pain — ice — cold — howling wind churning waves — error . . ._ ]

“Whoa, whoa there!” Hands were on him, one clamped around his wrist and the other digging into his fingers and his Ghost fluttered away from his vice-like grip in a panic. Had he been about to crush _—_  [ _a Ghost with a long crack in one piece of her shell — not yours — not yours_ ] the hands were trying to hold him down, why was he trying to attack? Why were his hands in fists and why was there blood on his gloves? [ _ether curling from her throat like blood and the knife — you killed her y'know_ ] “Ghost! Emergency protocol, access code 0 _—“_ [ _system reset — initiating standby . . ._ ]

[ . . . ]

[ _system startup . . ._ ] 

His arms were bound, the man with a crooked nose and blood on his lips stared at him with the anticipation of another fight written on his face. Cayde only cut his vision and lay there in the peace of silence in his mind, then he tried to sort out what happened. The water and _—_ a hand was placed on his chest, firm and warm. “Don't go there again.” The voice was a warning, firm and a little bit ragged. “Look at me.” He peered up at the man and a name reached his face.

“Braig?” His voice was laced with static.

“You're damned lucky I found you. Saw the smoke and came running. Didn't expect to find you washed up on shore.”

“Fuck.” Braig was pulling at the hastily tied ropes around him, freeing his arms, untying him. When he was unbound he sat up, his Ghost came over to him and he was dimly aware that he'd tried to _crush_ her. “I didn't hurt you, did I?” He asked weakly, he remembered how hard he'd _—_. She was fine, no damage and no long cracks in her shell. There was blood on the backs of his gloves, he knew damn well that the blood matched the smear of it on the quickly bruising face of the ex-warlock watching him. He didn't need to look up to confirm it, he'd already seen it. She hung the pieces of her shell sadly, as if worried. 

“ _You weren't yourself._ ” She said quietly. “ _I wouldn't have held it against you._ ” Shakily, Cayde reached out to her. She didn't flinch or fly away from him, but he nearly withdrew his hand when he got close. She took the step to press into his palm. He tried to use the contact to comfort either her or himself, he couldn't tell which one he was going for. He could confirm she wasn't damaged now that he could get a proper look at her. She just looked concerned, looking up at him. Cayde looked back up to the ex-warlock. " _I'm so so sorry I couldn't get you to shore_." Her voice trembled like she was about to cry, he didn't know if he'd ever heard her voice like that. 

"No, no, don't be sorry. It's fine.  _I'm_ fine." He reassured, rubbing his thumb over a piece of her shell and trying to ease her hurt. Maybe he was wrong about the damage thing, he could see a slight dent in her core, like bruising, he felt sick. Something felt all twisted up inside of him and he couldn't wrap his head around it. He wasn't fine. He was anything but fine. “I'm not sure how to thank you, I owe you one.” He muttered to the man kneeling next to him, sullen, his wires felt loose and jittery – any second it felt like he'd lose control of his limbs and lose his mind all over again. 

“You don't owe me anything, but if you insist I've got something in mind. Pretty sure my nose is broken, so how about you go ahead and contact the City for a ride?” The warlock was prodding at his nose, wincing, frowning at the blood on his fingers. He was getting up after a moment, brushing dirt and grass from his clothes.

“Why don't you want anything?” He asked.

“That is what I want. Take me to the City, okay?” He started to walk to the ocean. When he walked, he did so with a steady limp. One that came from an injury that never properly healed. Without a Ghost, all his healing had to be the old-fashioned way. Bones had to heal on their own, bruises had to fade, scrapes had to mend themselves. It took longer and some things didn't ever heal right; especially out on the road. The man hadn't aged but he hadn't walked away from this scar-free. 

He looked around the area, trees off to one side and the water in front of them, grass plains behind them. He didn't see any sign of the exo that Braig had been with last time. Something heavy sank over him. “Where's—?”

“No questions right now.” His voice was sharp, even at a distance with Cayde still sitting in the grass. “Get in touch with the City, tell them what happened. Get a rescue out here.” He watched the man dip his hands into the water and splash it over his face, wincing as he did, scrubbing the blood free from his skin. He felt a whole lot of regret for what he'd done. Then he was rinsing some piece of fabric in the water. 

“Yeah, that isn't happening.” He grumped, glancing out over the water as Braig made his return. Not quite sliding over the damp stones but not having the easiest time of it. “They don't like me leaving the City. If they found out what happened here? They'd never let me leave again.”

“If I didn't know any better, what I saw just now looked like you were in the process of having your mind rebooted. I think the best thing you need to do right now is to get back to the City and recover for awhile. You've gotta look after yourself.” He sat down next to the Exo, handing him the wet scrap of fabric. 

“I'll get to the City, but they can't know what happened.” It was the most he was about to compromise. He took the cloth as Braig sighed, he kept trailing delicate fingers over his bent nose unhappily. “Coming out here makes the reboot process reverse, or stalls it, I don't know. Keeps me sane. I know it's coming – you stick me in that Tower and never let me leave? I'm not going to come back from it.”

“Right, right,” he muttered. “What's your story then?”

“I've got nothing.”

“How about this,” Braig started slowly, coming up with it as he spoke. “I got myself into a situation I didn't think I could get out of. Preemptively shot a flare, you saw it and came to help. You got me on your ship but got shot down on the way, your Ghost transmatted us to shore, the ship crashed into the water and sunk. Now we need a lift because you don't have a ship anymore my nose is broken and I really really don't want you fixing it for me.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't trust me fixing it either.” He muttered with his Ghost perching on his knee cheerfully, ready to connect them. Her cheer was forced, at least he assumed as such. If he'd really been about to crush her  _—_ he made a soft noise as he fondly rubbed his thumb over a warm piece of her shell. “Here we go.” A sigh, Braig seemed to be struggling with keeping his hands away from prodding at his face. He could see the bruises beginning to form already. 

“ _Cayde? Why did you send me coordinates?_ ” Ikora's openers were _great_ , straight to the point and already accusatory. He rubbed his hand over one side of his forehead. He didn't think she was annoyed at him specifically, but she was definitely in a mood this morning and it hadn't gone away yet. He just had to stay calm, be relaxed. 

“Ah, that's where I am right now. I'm in a bit of a sticky situation. Or uh, maybe a rocky one.” He kicked his heel into the pebbles, sending a few of them clacking over the others and away from him. “Me and a friend need a ride back to the City.”

“ _What have you got yourself into now?_ ” She asked with a sigh, but he could hear the note of worry in her voice. That was a good sign – Cayde hadn't fucked something up this time. Whatever was going on had nothing to do with him. 

“We were being attacked. Not anymore though, lost my ship so we need transport.”

“ _Is everything okay?_ ”

“Yeah, everything's fine. It's not super urgent, just gotta make him stop touching his nose.” He batted playfully at Braig's arm, who grumbled in the way warlocks did when they knew the person telling them off was right. He was rather fond of that tone. 

“ _Very well. Someone will be along shortly._ ”

“Thanks, Ikora. See you soon.”

He sent a message to Vera, informing her he was going to have to cancel their plans. She was a bit annoyed but understood. Then they were just left to sit and wait for help. The cloth was still in his hands, he wiped at the blood on his gloves absently. No one needed to know that he was the reason why his nose was broken. “So,” Cayde started slowly. “What happened to your friend?”

“You mean Garalli? Dead. We were deep in a Hive nest when the Light started to waver. I told him to get out of there, he refused. When we realized we were about to lose the Light entirely I tried to get him to come with me and get the hell out of there, but he kept fighting.” The smile he wore was pinched. “His last action was wiping out almost the entire horde of them, used up and burnt out all the Light he had left. What little remained killed him before I could draw my gun again.”

“I'm sorry, I—“

“Don't. I've had a lot of time to think about it. If he hadn't done what he did neither of us were going to get out of there. I'm just pissed I couldn't take out those last few before they got him.” He let out a soft sigh. “The truth is? I'm tired of this life. That's why I want you to get me to the City. I'm planning to stay. Wandering non-Guardians don't want a Guardian with them, and Guardians don't want the liability of someone who only has one life left. Garalli was all I had.” His expression was sad, remorseful. “Look, the point is that there's nothing left out here for me. I'm tired of the road and I'd kill for a hot meal. So when we get to the City, I'm gonna stick around. I'm not going to ask you to get me a job or anything, just get me there and I'll take care of the rest.”

“Why can't you just go there on your own?” The two of them had been focused on not going to the City, if Braig wanted to go, couldn't he have just made his way there? His memory from their last meeting was hazy at best, but he thought could recall that much. He'd tried pretty hard not to remember those memories, he'd tried to hold onto their faces and their kindness, not what brought him there. 

The man laughed weakly, “I promised Garalli I wouldn't make him go back.” He exhaled something like a sigh and tugged the zipper of his coat down a little bit. Around his neck on a messily tied length of string were two little antennae, the looked like the ones the titan used to have on the side of his head. Braig let out another huff of laughter. “He broke one off a few years ago, I told him if he died I was taking the last three off him – he told me he would kill me if I tried.” They were shiny black, small and narrow with a rounded tip. The ends that had been broken were fused together and decorated with something that shone. “He lost another one later, it wasn't something I could fix. They're so small we lost them pretty quickly. But when he died I figured I'd take them, I think he'd laugh if he knew.” The loss of the exo had clearly been difficult for the warlock, he recognized that fond and sad way he spoke. “I'm tired of the road, if I get into a situation I can't get out of his sacrifice means nothing. Besides, I know a lot about exo's, I could be of some help.” He shrugged, then his lips were curling into a smile. “I made a lot of mistakes. Programmed him wrong once and disconnected his voice. Admittedly I took a week to fix it because his constant yammering got on my nerves sometimes.”

“Don't tell Zavala you can do that,” Cayde interjected helpfully.

“Is he the awoken that—?” At Cayde's nod, he let out a little laugh. “Don't worry, I don't think I could do it a second time. Last time had been an accident.” There were a lot of things he wondered, a lot of things he didn't know about. He didn't want to ask too many questions but Braig spoke easily, he didn't need to ask. When the ship arrived there was little fanfare, they just got in and sat in the hold together. “Last time I was in the City was before I met him.” He said, he had stopped poking at his nose but he did still bring his hand up to almost touch it sometimes, his fingertips hovering over the skin. Everyone else in the hold with them stayed silent, they didn't seem at all interested in speaking to them. “We joined up and he refused to come back after we lost our Ghosts.”

“I thought titan's liked their walls.”

“He was a different breed of titan. He was paranoid and didn't like confinement.” He sounded like a hunter. But he knew it wasn't uncommon for it. There might have been certain traits most classes exhibited, but plenty of them borrowed from other classes. Nothing was ever set in stone, he knew this. Praxic warlocks borrowed from titan's will, Andal used to train his abilities like a warlock, and Garalli avoided the City like a hunter would. Most of his own scouts were hunters, but there were still a few warlocks in the ranks who went out there for him. “Your friend, Brask? Every six months he got in touch with us, like clockwork, asked if there was anything we needed and sent us whatever we asked for within a few days. It kept us alive for a long time. We didn't hear from him for about two years, didn't want to be a burden or anything so we didn't try to ask. Finally, we decided to get in touch and found out he'd been gone for a few months and you'd taken his place.”

That one felt like a kick in the jaw, he hadn't known Andal was in touch with them. He hadn't known he'd stopped contacting them more than a year before he died. But he shook his head, sitting back in the seat. He wasn't going to get into this, a long time ago he had put Andal to rest in his own mind and he didn't want to find himself obsessing about him and all those questions surrounding his death all over again. Cayde had already wasted years on his memory, trying to find the truth of it all behind the shadows. He didn't know what to say, so settled with an off-hand “yeah, he was a good guy.” Just when things were working out in the love department, here he was thinking about what he used to have. 

“Ah, sorry.” Braig said, “I don't mean to be insensitive.”

“No, it's okay! It's fine, it's been a long time, I just didn't know that.”

The ex-warlock nudged him with his elbow. “That's all I knew about him.” He said kindly.

Their arrival back at the Tower wasn't met with any kind of joy or celebration, none of them knew what had actually happened out there. Zavala greeted them, a note of worry on his face carefully masked enough to not be too obvious. He lost all efforts to hide his concern when he spotted Braig, he recognized him instantly. Cayde stopped listening, chasing away the possibilities running through his head. Too many to count, too many to process one by one but he knew every single one of them. He'd moved on from _everything_ to do with Andal years ago – _why_ bring him up now? He was a dead man and his remains were little more than dust on the moon, dead Guardians with dead Ghosts didn't get second chances. He was still trying to shake his head clear when Ikora herded him off to run some paperwork about the crash. It was one of the last things he wanted to do, but at least he wasn't being left alone with his thoughts. He worked on the report, loudly, with just he and Ikora in the room. Zavala and Braig had gone off somewhere and he was fighting nervousness from that too, their story was vague at best and he just had to hope their details lined up. Ikora was bent uncomfortably over a screen, one headphone in her ear. He complained about what he had to do incessantly, hoping to draw Ikora out of whatever was on her mind. Instead, she put the other headphone in her ear to drown him out.

There was a very long and very tedious consensus meeting that night, one that addressed the crash and Cayde's ability to leave the Tower. Again. This wasn't the first time they had insisted Cayde was somehow unfit to leave – authorized or not. Surprisingly, it was Zavala who had spoken up against the newly proposed idea to keep him here - this was the best case they'd ever made for it by far and Zavala had never stepped in like this before. “If it had not been for some of Cayde's.. adventures beyond the City, we would not have been able to bring the faction rallies to the Tower.” It shut them all up. “Mistakes do happen, this one was beyond his control and I do not see a reason why he should be punished for it. But that does bring me to the topic at hand. This accident brought someone to the Tower who I believe will be a great asset to the City itself. He is a warlock with extensive knowledge of mechanics, golden age tech, and exo's.” He caught the look the Commander gave him, he gave a short bow of his head. The conversation shifted from there to chatter about where to put the Ghostless-Guardian. After listening to the squabbling for long enough for him to lose another card game to himself, Cayde kicked his feet up onto the table and slouched in his seat while heaving an exaggerated sigh. 

“Why don't we just stick him with Amanda and let her decide what to do with him?” He suggested. At Zavala's sharp glare, he lowered one foot to the ground slowly. When Zavala – and everyone else in the room – said nothing, he very very slowly lowered his other foot and sat up straight.

That evening, after all was said and done, he was finally free to resume his usual duties. He went over to his usual haunt in the Hangar, careful not to even look at Amanda in case she was still grouchy from this morning. He activated the patrol network and stared at the knives he’d thrown into the map and tried to figure out either why he’d thrown them or what they meant. Amanda wandered over to him within a few minutes while he waited for someone to find the beacon, he had a list of materials he was sending Guardians after. “Heya,” he said cheerfully, uncertain how she was feeling. She didn’t look annoyed, but she did look sad.  

“Sorry I didn’t see ya off,” she mumbled, leaning against the shelves. “Someone played a bit of a joke on me this morn’ and I was none too pleased.”

“What? Who?” He asked, pulling the knife from his hip. He twirled it between fingers.  “I’ll gut them.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Cayde, please don’t gut anyone. Dunno who did it, but maybe they were just trying to be nice.” 

“Well, if you want me to I’m pretty good with this thing.” But Amanda still looked a little unhappy, so he fumbled with the knife and it landed with a loud thump and a clatter on the floor. 

“Sure, Cayde, ‘pretty good’.” She was smiling now, his pride could take a few hits for her.  

“Hey, I am.”

Together they sent a couple Guardians off on patrols. Easy, simple, enjoyable. Just them back to old times, she didn't want to talk about the prank and he didn't ask. He'd have needled her a little if she hadn't looked so distraught about the whole thing. He told her what the consensus had decided about his warlock friend, she didn't seem too pleased about having someone shadow her at first. Then he told her who he was. From there, her attitude changed. Amanda was interested in what Braig had to say, he might not have known a lot about transport machinery like her but his knowledge of Exo tech was vast. For the next week every time he saw her she was deep in discussion about something with him, passing a large notebook back and forth to fully deconstruct everything they were saying. Diagrams, notes, scribbles, everything. They were exchanging knowledge with protractors and rulers and bickering over minute details. There were plenty of people who could work on an exo, but very few of them had the kind of knowledge that Braig did.  

[  _realigning . . ._ ]

He sat with Amanda after another long consensus meeting, the one where Amanda said she'd found a place for Braig. She’d brought him coffee and they sat watching the sunset together, legs hanging off the edge. She told him some of what led to her decision. She said that the other people around here who specialized in exo care wouldn’t be able to do some of those finer reprograms that Braig could. Exo's had a lot of self-healing, mesh wove itself back together and plating realigned themselves. It just took some time, a Ghost was more efficient. After that evening passed he just threw himself into his work to keep himself from thinking too much. There were always thoughts in his head but it was easy to not listen to them if he had a task at hand. During that time it seemed that Ikora was doing the same – she was throwing herself hard into something that he didn't understand.

All Cayde's efforts paid off, he didn't get many more troubling side effects from the upcoming reboot. No misfires, no Dreams, just a lot of work. He'd come close a few too many times, he'd been able to salvage it and stop it before it started. He had almost stopped sleeping, sticking to naps in public places where he could still register voices around him so he didn't sink down into the deep Dark. He hadn't been in his room for almost two weeks and he didn't have any intention of doing so. He hadn't been able to find any time to corner Zavala. With how new their coupling was it was frustrating to be so busy but it really couldn't be helped. The nattering part of him told him that Zavala may think he wasn't interested if he kept this up. But when Cayde was free, Zavala was busy. When Zavala was free (which wasn't often), Cayde was busy. He started to work on it, he kept looking for empty rooms to hurry him into, kept testing his luck to see if he could get some kind of closeness. It was his own fault, Cayde normally made loads of spare time for himself. He was just nervous, he didn't need anyone to know how close he was getting to losing himself. He could even see the way Zavala was growing frustrated too, he just needed to keep up this pace long enough to be confident that he wasn't about to start losing control again. He'd barely managed a few kisses and a bit of heavy petting.

[  _realigning . . ._ ]

The faction rallies made a return, Cayde found himself caught up in taking care of the numbers again and he knew he was getting worse. He did make sure to spend some time watching Shaxx chase down feuding Guardians though, for such a tall and broad man he was surprisingly stealthy when he wanted to be. When Cayde dared to suggest he might have been a hunter in disguise, Shaxx picked him up by the back of his shirt and dangled him over the edge of the Tower until he retracted his statement.  

He did not. His Ghost scolded him for that one later. That night he found Zavala and hurried him into a dark corner, he was only able to kiss him long and slow before footsteps had Zavala pushing him away. 

[  _realigning . . ._ ]

There was always less to do when Saladin came to the Tower, which sent Cayde into a bit of a panic to find things to keep him busy. That was the week he almost got to sleep with the Commander again a couple times. He only managed to get the door closed behind them and Cayde pinning him to the wall before someone tried it. Ghost shuffled the codes for the door but Zavala was already untangling himself and stepping away. Cayde was left hot and bothered and knocking his head back into the wall where Zavala had once stood. He hit his head on the wall again with another groan, trying to shake the dark thoughts in his head from surfacing. That shaking feeling of his systems teetering on the edge of skewing sideways hadn't gone away. His nerves were shot and it was frustrating. 

Each time the two of them found themselves alone someone interrupted them. Cayde was about ready to call it quits out of pure frustration, he didn't think he was ready to find himself alone at night with him. Once Zavala fell asleep, he would be left alone with his thoughts and nothing to do. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't let that happen. But maybe he was just overthinking this whole thing, maybe he was fine. 

[  _realigning . . ._ ]

Through everything else going on, it was Ikora who was worrying him. His own fragile mind kept mostly in check, still putting in efforts to corner Zavala somewhere, it was Ikora who wasn't doing so well. She had become obsessive, all her free time was spent searching through the comms and listening to hours upon hours of recording from years ago. He even spotted her in an intense discussion with some poor hunter she had cornered but the conversation had ended swiftly as soon as he’d been spotted. Then it happened a few more times, she cornered a titan on one occasion and another titan later on. It became impossible to talk to her, she didn't want to have anything to do with any of them, she was just busy listening and interrogating. He hadn’t told Zavala about it all, but he knew he noticed it. They all did.

It was Amanda who came to him when he had a rare moment alone, his feet on the chair next to him, half-hard due to that look Zavala had just given him half an hour ago before he left. He would realize the look had been an invitation a few hours from now. “Hey, Cayde?” She started. He had a deck of busted up cards on the table and they were scattered over the map in no real order. She had a datapad in her hand.

“Hey,” he greeted as the Shipwright sat on the edge of the table, arms folded over her chest, screen loosely held in her fingers. “What's going on?” He asked, cheerfully.

“It's Ikora.” She responded. “She went to the moon yesterday.”

Cayde sat up, putting his feet down. “Why the moon? What business would she have there?”

“I don't know, but I do know she cleared the flight log.” She handed him the screen, he looked at it and saw nothing. A departure and arrival timestamp alongside the code of her ship, nothing more. “I know it's the moon because she didn't clear the jump she made until a few hours after she got back. Must be somethin' big if she forgot this. Now, look, she's just got back from another trip, see?” She swiped a finger over the screen, pulling up the most recent flight.

“And there's no data on that, either.” He mumbled.

“She's got live tracking off, that's fair. Lotsa Guardians do it that way. The ship itself still has all location data, that's where I pulled this from. She's cleared them completely.”

“Whatever she's doing, she doesn't want to be found.” He made a sound like a sigh. 

“You've noticed she's been a little weird lately, right?”

“A little? Of course I have. Caught her in some discussion with a very scared looking hunter. As soon as she saw me the hunter scampered and if looks could kill both me and my Ghost would be dead three times over.”

“She's tracking someone down.” Cayde nodded in response, “all her comm history, beyond normal duties, show she was listening to a lot of chatter from the EDZ, the moon, and Mercury. Looked like she went through the last couple years of recordings. Three days ago she deleted all her history.”

“Wait, that's Vanguard access stuff. How are you able to see it?”

She gave him Amanda's Look™ and he huffed in response. “Cayde, I know all your passwords.”

“Fair point. It sounds like she's found who she was looking for.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Who do you think it is?”

“No idea.” She said with a sigh. “I just thought I'd let you know.”

She took the screen with her and left back to her duties, Cayde hummed to himself. She would eat him alive if he even dared to ask what was going on. If he were honest, he missed Ikora. He missed how she would tease him with that fond look in her eyes. He missed actually talking with her, placing petty bets and her affectionate exasperation at him. This version of Ikora was rough to the point where she risked instability. This wasn't something he knew how to approach and if he tried his usual techniques he didn't think he'd get very far.

 [  _realigning . . ._ ]

Flight logs clean, he'd been watching them now. The three of them, the Vanguard, were in the Hall. Zavala was jotting down notes for the next Dawning event and all he was doing was fixing a piece of his map. The quiet was interrupted by a crackle of noise from a Ghost. 

“ _Transmission, Hawthorne 2._ ” Ikora’s Ghost was saying, he was fluttering hear her head. Cayde glanced up at her, that name was definitely new. It was the day after Ikora's third flight. 

“Connect me,” she said, Cayde only heard a pop of static as she made a swift exit from the room. Another Hidden.  

But with Ikora gone and no one else in the room but him and Zavala he walked quickly to the other side of the table to where Zavala stood, the titan only eyed him suspiciously but didn’t push him away. His systems were aflutter, no one was scheduled to be here for hours, Ikora had just left and would likely be busy for at least a little while. For the first time, it seemed very likely that no one was going to come by. It would be enough, it had to be enough. But Zavala seemed barely interested in his hands that wandered over him, his eyes directed to the door she'd disappeared out of. The titan then grabbed him by the hips as if finally realizing Cayde was pawing at him, curling his fingers in his belt. “I’m concerned about Ikora,” he started.  

“Oh, multitasking!” He replied cheerfully as he was snaking his arms around Zavala’s neck. “I can do that.” He nuzzled into him, held firmly in place by those hands. This was usually the most he could get away with, a couple kisses, a bit of heat, then it was stifled and they got back to their duties. It had been _weeks_ , Cayde was tired of waiting for a chance – today he was making it happen. The Cabal could come back and he wouldn't stop. “I wasn’t going to mention it but the last three days she's made a trip a day out of the Tower without telling anyone. Other than a jump to the moon three days ago, all flight logs have been scrubbed.”

Zavala pressed a kiss to the metal that made up his jaw. “Yes, I was aware she was leaving the Tower.” He felt the brush of Zavala’s nose near the hollow of his cheek. “I did not know about the logs. And she doesn’t usually mention Hidden by a coded name.”

“Any idea who Hawthorne 2 could be?” Cayde was really enjoying this, Zavala’s gentle affection came so easily to him. He was almost surprised by it, Zavala no longer seemed so stiff and unbending when it came to his affections. 

“Possibly a civilian. Someone associated with Hawthorne.” 

“Would she really get a non-Guardian into the Hidden?”

“Hawthorne serves on the consensus despite being a civilian. It’s not impossible.” 

“Is she coming back?” Cayde asked his Ghost, not concealing the need laced in his voice. Zavala was wandering his hands around him and he was just about ready to come undone. 

“No,” his Ghost said through Zavala’s. “I don’t know where she went, but I’ll keep you informed.” 

Zavala hooked his hands under his thighs and hoisted him up, turning them around and sitting him down on the table well away from his maps, he was tired of rewriting them when they got damaged. And no, Ikora, he wasn't covering them with plastic to protect them. That looked silly. How was he supposed to keep adding details if he couldn't scribble on them? The impact of an entire hunter being dropped down onto the table rattled it, a handful of scrolls delicately placed rolled off of it and clattered to the ground. He suspected that Zavala was just as high-strung as he was, the titan didn't even flinch at the sound, his hands were just caressing his thighs eagerly. Just as Zavala was kissing him he realized something. “Wait, why doesn’t Ikora get punished for unauthorized trips out of the Tower?” He whined. 

Zavala rose an eyebrow at him. “She likely has good reason to.” 

“Hey, so do I,” he insisted, Zavala’s eyebrow only crept higher on his face. 

“I’m sure you do it just to get on my nerves.”

He clapped a hand to his chest in mock pain despite how close they were. “You wound me, Zavala.” He exclaimed. “I would never intentionally try to get on your nerves,” but with that said he was clamping his calves around the back of Zavala’s thighs and pulling him forwards, grinding up against him.

“Cayde.” Zavala growled in warning, his breath was low and forcibly even. Cayde had not missed the hitch in his breath at the contact. “How many times have I told you we aren’t doing this here?’”

“You’re the one who put me here.” He pointed out helpfully. “But what’s the issue?” He asked, “my Ghost is watching the door, she knows all the door codes and can shuffle them if they can’t be distracted.”

“Is that why we’ve had to reset that system four times now?” 

“Oops,” so he distracted him with another little roll of his hips. It seemed to work, Zavala snaked a hand to his lower back. 

“Cayde,” Zavala sighed, half exasperation and half needy.

"Zavala." He echoed, voice soft. "Look, it's been weeks. We're actually alone, no one is going to come by and bug us, I kinda need you."

Cayde rolled his hips a little, Zavala sighed and grabbed Cayde by the back of the head roughly and kissed him, “fine” he growled into it. He silently cheered in his head. 

“Ghost, keep everyone out.”

Zavala worked his belt open and nudged his legs further apart to hike the hem of his top partway up his chest. It seemed that Zavala also understood the unique moment they had, he wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Zavala did just think they'd both been too busy to do this. Weeks of need seemed to be just under the surface, Zavala felt almost restrained with the way he was carefully opening his zipper and palming his crotch. Warm wet tongue sliding against metal, hand at the back of his neck. "C'mon, Blue," he murmured, dropping one arm from his neck to the length of fabric looped around the titan's waist, untucking it and letting it fall to the side. With a careful hand, he unclipped the bond from his waist and caught it before it fell. Zavala released a breath, Cayde would have grinned into it if he could. He hauled the mark to the table beside him, setting it there and knocking some heavy books around and rattling more scrolls as Zavala got back to kissing him again. 

Cayde got back to getting his partner's dick out of his pants. 

With the bond out of the way Cayde was able to get his hands on the button, Zavala was kissing his face so gently while he did so. His hands cool on his thighs and he could feel the faint tremble from him. If it was from nerves or the chill in the air, he didn't know. It might have just been the anticipation of the moment. Zavala let out a breath as Cayde dipped a gloved hand down the front to curl his fingers around his thick length, giving him a squeeze that resulted in the man exhaling a low noise that was equal parts restrained and lovely. Zavala spared a glance to the door, hand gripping synthetic skin a little too hard. "The door's secure," Cayde mumbled. "No one is going to come in. Promise." 

That was enough for the Commander to tug one of Cayde's legs to the table and get one hand to the back of his calf to release the metal shinplates, then he was peeling down the legwarmer. Careful hand tugging on the laces of his boots. It took a bit of wriggling on Cayde's part to tug his pants down his leg, once his leg was free they were pulling each other close again. Cayde holding his sometimes-partner between his knees, hands wandering over his far too clothed body. Maybe he felt a little guilty he had spent so much time trying to be busy, he had pushed Zavala off to the side a little bit. Cayde pulled him for another kiss, moving his jaw in response to the way Zavala moved his. The exo hummed as Zavala grabbed his bare leg and tucked it under his arm, using his free hand to feel around. A still-gloved finger pressed into him and his voice hitched in response. In a steady movement, he guided himself into him and Cayde whimpered.  

With the Commander fully settled into the hunter, he let out another little noise that was mostly static. When Zavala started moving, he whimpered again. He pumped into him slowly, tenderly. While Cayde was mindful of his horn, they were forehead to forehead. Close to is as they could, anyway, close as was possible. Zavala had his hand on his bare leg, fingers clutching against plates of metal and synthetic skin. His hood had come down and Zavala had his other hand on the back of his head, keeping him close. This was all Zavala rolling his hips into him, Cayde couldn't move much without rocking the table. Though that much was unavoidable, the rocking was sending scrolls rolling around. The slow pace was doing wonders for him, this wasn't the time or the place for Zavala to be taking his time to finding Cayde's end a couple of times but that seemed to be exactly what he was doing. His first climax had him nearly collapsing back onto the table, it was only the strong hand on his neck that kept him from doing so. His systems buzzing pleasantly and loud in the quiet room and only matched by the low noisy breaths that came from the titan. 

His systems couldn't even cool before Zavala increased his tempo, lips catching on his. Then he lowered the hunter down to the table, gently, Cayde flailing his arms a little to shove books out of the way. At least two of them crumpled to the floor. The new angle drew a low groan from Zavala, who held him completely still and helpless. Zavala came after a number of firm thrusts, Cayde whimpering as he fucked through his orgasm. Zavala's forehead rest somewhere on his stomach as he kept moving, whispering softness and gentle pleads, drawing out another finish from Cayde that blinked out his vision for a few moments, body shuddering from the force of it all. 

They stayed like that for a few moments as the titan's ragged breath began to even out and Cayde's systems quieted down. As he came back down, he realized this was the first time his joints didn't feel jittery since the crash. This was the first time he felt calm and quiet and he let out a burst of laughter, cupping the back of his partner's head affectionately. 

"I expect you to fix the keycard system," Zavala said as he straightened, but Cayde had his fingers tucked under his breastplate and sat up with him. Gently, he curled his fingers around his hand and kissed his knuckles, Cayde's systems fluttered at the little action as Zavala pulled his cock free of his body. He whined at the loss, but Zavala wasn't pulling away from him yet.  

"Wait, what?" He complained, but he didn't have any real intent in the retort. He hadn't even thought about anything other than breaking the system whenever he tried this. He was leaking all over the table and tried not to complain when Zavala stepped clear of his grasp, he returned with a couple napkins leftover from the last time there'd been a delivery here. It was crude but it worked for a quick clean-up. Cayde handed him his mark and Zavala tenderly strapped the shinplate back on. Once dressed, the two of them collected everything they'd knocked off the table. 

"What do we do about Ikora?" It was unusual for him to ask what he thought, sometimes Cayde forgot that Zavala did actually value his opinion. 

"Nothing," Cayde replied. "Let her do her thing. When she’s ready, she’ll tell us who she found."

Zavala hummed impatiently. "I suspect she would tell us the same thing if we asked." 

Cayde slipped his arms around Zavala’s neck again, "that’s what I was thinking."

"Cayde?"

"Mm, yes?" He was busy running the hard metal of his mouth over Zavala’s jaw. 

"Go fix it."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I say anything else, I just wanted to give a shoutout to [Slashseeker](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Slashseeker/pseuds/Slashseeker). You have been amazing, and you've helped me so much through all of this. This chapter wouldn't even be possible without you. 
> 
> Ikora's trip to the moon was Slash's idea. 
> 
> Beyond that, go take a look at [20/20](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12958584), by TheAmethystRiddle. Go read it and leave a comment on it because it is wonderful. I know how much comments make my day so go and spread some love? 
> 
> Another exciting note, someone drew me art! Every time I think of it I start grinning like a madman. It's a scene from the last chapter. I'm so astonished and so so so so SO happy that someone liked this enough to draw it. I can't get enough of it. I can't say enough wonderful things, and all the other art (especially the Guardian x Calus stuff) is gloriously wonderful too. Go check it out, [THIS IS A NSFW LINK](http://frussy.tumblr.com/post/168285804102/%E1%B4%97-this-ficthis-one-chapter-in). 
> 
> I am sorry this took so long. A lot of these things I've mentioned here happened a while back I'm only just getting to this now. Life hasn't been easy lately, but it's finally beginning to get a bit better. But let me know what you think and if you liked this? 
> 
> One last note - Katargo left this amazing comment on Undying Light a few days back and that's a huge reason why I finally sat down to edit and submit this. Thank you, Katargo. Thank you. 
> 
> Love you all, hope you enjoyed this mess. Both timelines are officially at the same point in-game, now we see what happens.


	9. A Ranger Found

Somehow, in Zavala's sleep, he had locked his hand on Cayde's shoulder around his back and held him in place. Cayde squirmed when he slept, this was likely just a way to make sure he stayed still. But it was nice, actually, Zavala lay flat on his back with the arm around him, his other lying across his stomach. Cayde tucked himself closer, folding his hand over Zavala's and letting himself relax. It seemed that everything was getting easier, he wasn't struggling so much.

At least, he wasn't yet. 

“Who do you think Hawthorne 2 is?” He asked as soon as Zavala started waking up.

“Hm?” The Titan was looking up at him, blinking in the early morning light. “Does it matter? For all we know it could be Devrim, the two of them are close.” Then Zavala was pinning him down to the bed, Cayde stopped caring enough to keep pressing him. Soft lips kissing gentle affection across him, so rarely they got a real bed together, or maybe Cayde was finally beginning to relax a little bit. So he returned Zavala's gentle touches, and when he wasn't getting around to fucking him already he rolled over and wriggled his backside against the front of Zavala's thin shorts. It didn't take him long to get down to business after that. 

Ikora was still guarded, feeling a bit cocksure after a lazy morning with Zavala he went to confront her. There were reports about the Infinite Forest coming in and he knew damn well what that meant. But if this was just about Osiris, why would she be so secretive? Why would she be lurking through the EDZ, and why would 'Hawthorne 2' make an appearance at the same time Osiris did? She wasn't surprised when he entered the room, she did look a little taken aback by Cayde's stance. “Can I help you?”

“So. Find who you were looking for?” He was tired of this Ikora, he wanted his friend and occasional lover back. He kept thinking that it might be nice if she joined him and Zavala sometimes. But the look she was giving him stripped him of all hope of anything like that happening. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I know you've been looking for someone. Trips to the moon, listening in on the EDZ, something's up.” Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “Was it just Osiris, or were you looking for someone else?” Osiris, clearly, was on Mercury. The reports that came in confirmed it. But further discussions with Amanda told him her searches were primarily in the EDZ. Whoever she was looking for was there, somewhere. 

“It doesn't matter, Cayde.” Her voice was firm, she stood, Ghost floating quietly beside her. He looked at Cayde absently, her Ghost was always so distant. 

“Well it kinda feels like I lost a friend for a while there, so, it does – in fact – matter.” It was the closest he was going to get to admitting how much he missed her. 

“Cayde, you don't know what you're getting yourself into.” She warned, folding her arms over her chest. Defensive, hiding something. She didn't want whoever she was looking for to be found. Cayde wasn't okay with not knowing. Who could possibly bring Ikora into such a state? 

“Who's Hawthorne 2?”

“A friend.” Her posture seemed to change, then, she looked less concerned and calmer, like she'd figured out what this was all about. Damn, she probably had. Had she been looking for Hawthorne 2?

“Yeah, I figured that. I'm looking for a name.” 

“Hawthorne 2 is a member of my Hidden, Cayde, and I do not intend on betraying them just to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Wait, was Hawthorne 2 who you were looking for?” He asked, just a little confirmation, that's all he needed. Hunter's hunted, he could work with that. 

“That's enough, Cayde.” And from there on, nothing he said got any kind of reply. No matter how many times he said her name. By the end of it, he was left feeling more than a little helpless. Had he really lost Ikora? Maybe his tactics could use some improvement, but holding a real conversation with her about anything other than Vanguard-related subjects had been so impossible. He had tried to talk to her about something that wasn't about work but she wanted nothing to do with it, she brushed him off and continued with what she was doing. If he had done something wrong, he at least wanted to know about it. 

After moping for a few hours, he went to find Hawthorne. She was the only lead he had right now, though he could guess Ikora had been searching for whoever H2 was. She was busy cooing over her bird, her hood down for once with all her long black curls cascading over her shoulders. It was going to snow soon, this was probably the last warm day before the cold really came in. He should probably be trying to enjoy the last of the heat too, but he felt like he might get his answers if he pushed it hard enough. 

“Cayde,” she said, putting more than a little bit of (feigned) suspicion in her voice. She was still smiling though, still content. “What can I do ya for?”

“Who's Hawthorne 2?” She visibly bristled at his question, she hadn't been expecting this. Good, maybe he could get some answers from her. She had to know the person using her name, right? 

“Who's who now?” She rose an eyebrow at him, curious. 

“Don't play dumb with me. Why is one of Ikora's Hidden using your name?” Time to play hardball, see what he could figure out. He'd already caught her off-guard, just a little more..

“What? I don't know what you're talking about. You're not making any sense.” She was pulling her hood back on, but he didn't miss the flush in her ears. She was lying – she knew exactly who Hawthorne 2 was and she wasn't going to tell him. He wanted to thank her, instead, he just sighed dramatically. 

"Fine, fine, you don't have to tell me I guess." He even threw up his hands in surrender. So he turned to leave and made a bit of a show of clomping down the stairs and heading back to the Hall. Once out of eyeshot, he nodded at his Ghost. 

" _I'm on it._ " She said cheerily, vanishing in a puff of static. Content, Cayde sat down to pour over his map and the latest stack of threats waiting for him. His Ghost returned within the hour, he was busy doodling on the back of another Infinite Forest report. 

 

“ _Soon after you left she got into contact with Devrim, she specifically said 'Cayde's on to him, he needs to be careful'._ ”

“Why would someone want to hide from me..?” It wasn't what he expected to hear. It seemed that he was going to have to make a trip to the EDZ soon. 

" _Have you wronged anyone?_ " She asked, inspecting his drawings curiously. He hastily covered them up, shooing her away. 

"I have wronged people, but if I did why would they want to avoid me?" She hummed thoughtfully in return, twisting her shell. None of this was making any sense. At the very least, he was coming close to figuring this out. 

The next morning he linked arms with Zavala in the cold air, the Titan narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but he didn't miss the way he fought to keep the corners of his lips from pulling into a smile. Before Cayde could open his mouth to speak Zavala untangled their arms and took a step back, Cayde tried to pout. 

"I'm heading to the EDZ today." He said cheerfully, leaning his hip up against the railing. "I found a lead on who Hawthorne 2 is, I'm going to sneak up on Devrim and see if I can catch something." Zavala rose an eyebrow at him. "But look, thing is, you can't tell anyone I'm doing this, okay? Especially not Ikora."

Zavala sighed, "I hope you know I do have to inform her." But then the Commander paused, and let a little smile break his firm features. "However, if I tell you 'no' and you go anyway, there's no need for it to be spoken of any time soon." Cayde swooned. 

"You're the best, Big Blue." He almost purred, linking their arms again. "How about I sneak into your room tonight and thank you properly?" Zavala's cheeks went a little pink and he shrugged Cayde off half-heartedly. 

He cleared his throat before nodding him off and shooing him away. Cayde nearly pranced away from him towards the Hangar. The skies were grey and it was cold, winter was almost here. He couldn't wait, throwing snowballs at unsuspecting passerby's was one of his favourite winter hobbies. He wanted to see how many he could get away with throwing at Zavala before he got strung up by the ankles. That might be kind of kinky, actually, would Zavala be into that kind of thing? 

He waved at Amanda when he passed by her, heading up into his ship to take a little journey. He dropped in near Trostland, he could see the church tower from here but he couldn't see the man who basically lived there. He twirled his pistol and stuck it back against his hip and made his way over. The air was bitingly cold but it was bright and sunny. He did love the mountains, and the views around here were gorgeous. When he got to the shade of the church he ducked down a little bit and moved slow, stealthy, so he wouldn't be heard before he got up there. 

Devrim jumped when he snuck up the path to the top of the tower.

“Cayde!” He said, exhaling laughter, “don't sneak up on an old man like that—“

“I don't want to hear it," Cayde interjected. "Who is Hawthorne 2?”

Devrim looked at him for a moment before a small fond smile spread over his face. “Remember that strange Warlock? From the Festival. That's Hawthorne 2; the ship he took was one of Suraya's, the name stuck.” He was settling again, setting down his gun and turning his attention to the half cup of tea he had left. 

“So why is everyone not telling me that part?” He demanded. Devrim wasn't as easy to crack as Suraya was. 

“Well, they don't exactly know. I told you, he's a strange one.” The realization that Ikora had been trying to find Hawthorne 2 hit him like a load of bricks, he'd suspected before now but this was confirmation. Why? Devrim was lying to him – even if he had no obvious signs that he was. If Ikora had been looking for that Warlock she would know who he was. Suraya had told him she didn't know but had warned Devrim that Cayde was looking. Whoever this Warlock was, the tall one who wore gloves that were too short for long fingers, was someone who didn't want to be found by Cayde, specifically. 

He didn't respond to the sniper, instead, he took a quick glance around the area. It didn't reveal anything, but looking a little deeper did. There was ash kicked up into a corner. Not trying to hide it, but the pattern of footsteps had blown it there. The desk had strangely cut pieces of weapons but no tools to speak of that would be able to achieve those lines, cut with something else then. A piece of cracked glass with fingerprint marks all over one side, when he put his fingers on it, it was still a little warm. Cut with Light, perhaps? Someone who knew a lot about Light manipulation, maybe. “Cayde, can I help you?” Devrim asked kindly, “I'm certainly not opposed to your exploration, I am simply curious what you're looking for.”

“Do you smoke?” He asked, voice soft. The pieces were beginning to come together and he wasn't liking it. This.. no. 

“On occasion,” Devrim said pleasantly. “Not often, I'm afraid.”

“Do you roll your own?” He wasn't looking at the sniper, he was focused on the table and the collection of details that felt familiar. The cold at the back of his neck wasn't from the air. 

Devrim cleared his throat, “I have.”

“Thanks for your time. I've gotta go.” Devrim didn't try to call after him, Cayde wouldn't have stayed anyway. 

On his way out, in the dirt below the church, there were a couple burnt ends of hand-rolled tobacco. He steadied himself against the wall, he felt sick. He felt unsteady, weak, like he was about to [ _I collapse. We all collapse – misfire – realigning . . ._ ]

No one saw it, he picked himself off the ground and stumbled back to his ship with his head spinning. He couldn't be alive, after all this time? All those years spent agonizing over him, all those years  _grieving_ for him, all those years wishing he could give everything to have him back — and he was here? Hiding from him and trying not to be caught, dressing up as  _Warlocks_ and using fake names so Cayde couldn't ever find him. And  _Ikora_. His friend, the person who got him through his death in the first place, knew. She knew and she kept it from him. Did everyone know? Did Zavala know? He only made it partway through the mountains before he had to stop, he couldn't concentrate on flying. He broke his arm on the rocks and Lit his gun with flames just like  _Andal_ taught him to and blasted them into the sky. 

Once Cayde had let off some steam his Ghost patiently healed his broken limbs and bumped up against his cheek. " _Cayde? Talk to me?_ " She asked, gentle, he patted her absently and kicked at the snow. 

"Yeah, I figured it out." He muttered bitterly. "My dead boyfriend is alive, so that's cool I guess. Instead of leaving my like any reasonable person would, he decided to fake his own death and get shacked up with some—" He cut his words off before he could finish that sentence. He had no way to confirm or deny anything like that, it wasn't fair for him to be an ass to someone who didn't deserve it. No matter how hurt he was, he couldn't go that low. 

His Ghost bumped gently up against his cheek, he let out a noise that was somewhere between a whine and a laugh. " _I'm so sorry, Cayde. Why don't we track him down, find out what happened?_ " 

"It's not worth it." The idea was good, but he knew well enough at this point. Give it time he wouldn't remember any of this. It didn't matter. There wasn't time to scatter pieces of himself for him to find later, he had a handful of notebooks and he would just have to trust that he would get them back on his own one day. Or he wouldn't, Zavala might keep them so he could remember him. He might give them to him, but it didn't matter, either choice the Commander made was okay with him.  

When he got to his room he sank down onto the chair, resting for a moment before he was looking around. All his things, his books, his memories. There'd been three more misfires on the way here. But he had a date tonight and he was going to make damn sure that Zavala was going to have some fond memories of him. It wasn't easy to pretend he hadn't found a life-shattering discovery, but he tried. Zavala seemed to know something was up, his actions were so tender. Zavala would never to do him what Andal did. 

He tried his best over the next few days, he tried to work alone. Spent his time drawing what he imagined Failsafe would look like if she was human. Calculating Vex structures, drawing a Thrall, sketching a Captain's face and it [ _she_ ] throwing him its [ _her_ ] shock pistol and Ether curling in the air [ _shock pistol – misfire – hand clenches – pen splinters – realigning . . . get a shock pistol_ ]

His circuits kept shorting out. Fingers twitchy, the ticking in his chest was his time running out. He knew this sensation, he knew it, he'd felt it, sitting in the old tower looking at Andal looking at him. He looked so worried and so tired, he knew he was imagining things but he saw him again so clearly. He didn't need or want fond memories of the Hunter, not anymore, he'd torn a few pages to pieces where he'd written tender confessions and happy words about him in a fit of rage before he settled with writing 'he faked his death' over one page and leaving it at that.  

[ _realigning . . ._ ]

There was a knock at the door, his head was wracked with splitting pain. He took half a second to gather himself. “ _It's Zavala,_ ” his Ghost said kindly.

“Ah, well, open it up then?” She gave him a long-suffering sigh like the overdramatic thing she was as she floated to the door. He felt a rush of fondness for her as the door opened. “Zavala!” He said cheerfully, but couldn't think of anything witty to add. Instead, he just had one hand up in the air, waving it.

“Cayde, I am concerned about you. Your actions lately have been unlike your usual.. antics.”

“Wait, you miss all that?” He had one of his spare decks of cards in his hands, shuffling them just for something to fiddle with.

“Cayde,” Zavala started, moving into the room to sit down on the bed. Cayde swung his chair around to look at him, knees knocking together gently. “That book you gave me all that time ago,” he started. “everything in there is concerning, and considering the change in your behaviour, I'm worried about you.”

“Aw buddy, you're gonna fry my circuits if you keep this up.” He nearly purred, but the joints in his wrists and fingers felt loose. It didn't matter they were sleeping together, Cayde was always going to flirt with him.

“I need you to take this seriously, I can't lose you.”

Cayde just laughed, the process wasn't reversible. His fate was undeniable. He'd driven it away before but he wasn't going to get so lucky this time. Exo's didn't come back from the frenzied state this close to the end. It was just a shame that he didn't get any longer with him than this. It was for the best, he told himself, Zavala deserved a flesh and bone [ _gave everything to the ice – misfire – card crushed – realigning . . ._ ] partner. 

He stared at the crumpled card in his hand and wondered what the action looked like to the Commander. Neurotic, lack of impulse control, primordial. Zavala was looking at him with wide eyes, he tossed the card to the side and tried to pretend he'd done it on purpose. “It's nothing I can't handle, don't worry your pretty little head about it.” He would have grinned if he had the capacity for it, but he tried anyway, hurrying to his feet before Zavala could grab him. “There's no need to worry about me,” he lied, no need to worry about what they couldn't change.

Zavala stood too, grabbing the Exo and pulling him to his chest. “Promise me you'll be fine.” Large hands were on his back, Cayde draped himself into his arms. 

“You know I don't make promises,” he replied, voice muffled by static.

“I know you don't make ones you can't keep.” 

“Just don't make 'em in general.” His head was on Zavala's shoulder, arms around him. “Thanks for being concerned about me, Big Blue.” He muttered, but Zavala was shaking. “But there's nothing to worry about.” They both knew he was lying, he thought his Commander was talking but the words were lost in a haze.

When he woke up Zavala was hovering over him, he was on the floor in his arms. Weakly, he tried a smile and patted his hand.

The next time he woke he was in Zavala's room, the Titan was sitting on the chair, reading the book Cayde had given him so long ago. “Have you been sleeping?” He asked, setting the book down carefully. He was all slow movements as if Cayde was fragile. That wasn't far from the truth, if he were honest. 

“What?” He murmured, sitting up. His sensors all felt a little off, like one connection was mismatched and the rest of the line was wired one to the left. Not sleeping was a good excuse. “No, I haven't.”

“You need sleep.” He stood, coming over to the Hunter and sitting down next to him. “What happened if you remembered what happened in that book?” He asked, hesitant.

This time was he remembered was sinking deeper and deeper into the water. A creature, a monster, or maybe many of them just circling him. The misfire cracked his wrist off his own head, but Zavala was smoothing his hands comfortingly over him. He was wearing that lovely red sweater again, he sagged against him. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything.” Cayde shook his head. “Clearly I need to worry about you, what can I do to help?”

He realized, then, that he wasn't going to remember this soon. He wasn't wearing the cloak and could see it hanging up on the chair, but he wasn't going to remember what that cloak meant, he wouldn't remember all he'd done here, he wouldn't remember Zavala. “There's nothing you can do.” He said. When he pulled away Zavala pulled him back, kissing him and placing his hands on either side of his head. He let out a whimper, then placed his palms flat on the Titan's chest to push him away. “This isn't fair to you. I have to go, I'm not going to remember that I love you pretty quick here. I'm sorry.” 

"Cayde, don't!" He'd never heard him sound so frantic, Zavala grabbed him again and held him close. Cayde relented, Zavala held so tight. He wanted to break down. "I do love you, Cayde, there has to be something I can do." His voice sounded so strangled, so desperate. 

Cayde pushed away from him, using Zavala's temporary shock to slip out of his grasp and get to the other side of the door. When the door closed behind him he placed his palms flat on it. “Lock him in.” He said, looking at his Ghost. She ignored her concern for the moment, scanning the door as Cayde began to move. He didn't have time, he had to go. “How long was I out for?”

“ _Two days._ ” 

“Yeah. It's time. Tell Ikora to meet me above the Gunsmith. Tell her it's urgent, it can't wait.” Her shell was drooping, but she vanished as he jogged up to the platform. Ikora might have been in on Andal's betrayal, but maybe she was doing it to protect him. He couldn't judge, but he knew he needed to say goodbye. There wasn't time to tell anyone else. He put his hands on the railing and watched the Traveler as he tried to control the frenzy of impulses racing through him. It was cold and the skies were grey and the wind was howling.

“Cayde?”

“Ikora!” He said, straightening and walking over to her with his arms open. She was glaring at him. 

“Cayde, what is going on?” Her voice loud so he could hear her over the sound of the wind.  

“I'm leaving.” He cut right to it. “And that's final. You can tell me not to and send the whole City after me, of you can authorize it.” The City was still struggling and still trying to take care of its people. There weren't enough resources to send anyone or anything after him. They both knew that and he knew she wasn't going to risk the City to send people after him. He was counting on that, anyway.  

“Cayde!” She snapped, he was standing in front of her, his arms still open. She was beginning to look scared, maybe worried. At least she still cared about him.  

“I'll be back,” he lied. “Just give me a hug before I go, yeah?” 

He grabbed her and pulled her tight to him. He could feel her shake and he didn't know if she was upset or angry. He didn't care. “Just remember, Ikora,” he murmured into her ear. “If I don't return, I loved you too.” 

His ship rose behind him and Ikora was left holding onto empty air. She shouted his name but he was already breaking through the atmosphere. He'd done everything he could. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From Stars is almost done. Only more chapter after this one. It's done, I've just got to pull some last minute edits out of it. Andal's half of this isn't done yet, I've still got a ways to go. There's still going to be some fallout from the end of this over there, so if you like it there will be a little bit more. 
> 
> I can't even describe how awesome you guys have been, having so many people support this ridiculous project has been amazing. So thank you, so much. 
> 
> Tumblr is @ofaDyingStar, I post occasional fic and art updates.


	10. The Last Array

The door splintered as his shoulder collided with it, something broke and cracked in his arm in the impact. Full force, no Light. The pain barely registered as a cloud of dust surrounded him, Arc crackled along his arms like aftershocks as he stepped through the rubble into the hallway. By the time he got outside, Cayde was already gone. Ikora still stood out in the wind, her hands curled into fists at her side. She turned to him when he approached. “He's—“

“I'm going after him.” He interjected.

“No, you're not. There can't be just one Vanguard here.” Her voice was strangled.

“It will be fine, I need to go after him.” The idea of just staying here and waiting didn't sit well with him, he knew he could do better than that. Cayde deserved better. Cayde was too important to him to let him go through this alone. 

“Zavala!” Her eyes were narrowed at him, she stared him down but her resolve was wavering. “He's not going to know who you are when you see him.” She reminded him, ever helpful. “You can't stop this from happening. No one can. When this is all over he isn't going to know who you are. Are you _really_ okay with that?”

“Yes, I am. You said it yourself, I don't have a choice. I will leave the position of Commander to you while I am gone.” There was no hesitation in his answer. He wasn't going to back down. If Cayde was about to lose his memories the least he could do was be there. It was all he had left. Amanda had asked him, once, what he would give up for Cayde. His life meant little, he would give it gladly if it meant lives would be saved. But his job, his title, his life's work was something else. Something he couldn't trade so easily. He would face whatever punishment, including exile, to be there for Cayde. Even if he couldn't save him.

All things considered, he was calm. He walked with purpose and he walked like he was heading into his final battle once more. The Crucible Handler turned to him when he neared, when he spoke his voice was soft. “Shaxx, I need your assistance.”

“Anything for a friend.” the Titan responded kindly.

“It's Cayde.” It was the first time his voice sounded a little weak. He'd been so rigid and sure of himself, his concern was slipping through. 

“Say no more, what do you need?”

He let out a short breath, “I need you to step in as Titan Vanguard for me. I will be back as soon as I can.”

Shaxx sighed, but nodded and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “That I can do. Go on, best of luck to you. Both of you.”

He wasn't going to waste much more time. He needed to go find Cayde before the process started, so he could be there with him. No one stood in his way. Once he'd launched he located the ship he took, Cayde hadn't bothered with any kind of stealth, maybe he didn't have time. Zavala wasn't going to question it or wonder why he was just going to go. As they tracked his flight path, his Ghost healed him.

Saturn hung in the vast void of nothing as he piloted to the moon, shiny and bright and ejecting mist. “ _Found him. Enceladus_ ” His Ghost said, the pieces of his shell twirling as he spoke. “ _There's heavy interference, I can't pinpoint his exact location. There's a massive ice storm, he must have been caught in it as it started._ ”

“Are you able to narrow it down?”

“ _I've been trying. If we got closer I might, but up here there isn't much I can do._ ”

They flew around spouts of glass like ice dissipating into the atmosphere. “We get as close as we can and hope we can land.”

They breached the cloud cover, as soon as they did they had to rely on radar alone and it became a struggle just to keep the ship steady. Ice and hail stormed all around, geysers of mist and shards caught wingtips and threatened to overturn him. Zavala was nothing but calm as the winds battered his ship. Even when a hunk of ice destroyed one engine and he began a freefall to the ice below he used the storm to his advantage. There was no way he was going to land with any kind of grace. _“Ice sheet below us, it's actively freezing, but there's another layer under it, impenetrable_.” The cabin rattled with the force of the winds, he clutched the yoke and grit his teeth, obeying each shouted direction by his Ghost. “ _Brace yourself!_ ” He shouted, this was their only option to get out of this safely.

The ship smashed through the crust of ice with enough force to propel him down through frigid water to the second layer. He hit hard enough for the ship to bounce off it, and though he tried to give the engine one final push so he could break the surface again, there wasn't enough left. Water was dripping into the cabin, he shoved the helmet onto his head and ensured his Ghost was protected and safe. The ship had slowed to a stop, suspended under the ice that was already beginning to freeze around it. He had only one shot at this, if he couldn't manage this he was dead.

Zavala breathed one last breath, then hit the emergency eject button. As the water encompassed him it sucked the air from his lungs, instantly delirious from pure shock. His heavy gear did little to keep the cold out, but he began to move. With all the air released from the ship it was sinking through slush, he planted his feet on the nose of the ship, fingers curled in a ridge to keep him in place. He looked straight up, above him was a long crack his ship had broken into the ice, he wasn't sure if the haze clouding his vision was from the crystals of ice blossoming all around him or his mind going fuzzy. The cold made his joints seize up, he concentrated on the pale light up above and kicked up off the ship with all the force he could manage.

The edges of his vision was going black but it didn't matter, his only purpose was getting to Cayde. Arc Light channelled through him, and when his elbow connected with the surface the ice splintered and fell apart. He landed on the ice in a heap of smouldering Arc energy, wheezing for air that wasn't so sharp. His Ghost was shivering where he was tucked away, by his side under his chest plate. Up here was warm in comparison to the icy ocean, but it wouldn't be that way for long.

So he began to move. He walked firmly, head bowed to battle the storm. He had never taken an interest in the way Ikora used her Light like it was a toy. When Cayde started the habit he still hadn't found any interest in it. As he battled the storm that tried to suck the life from him, he cupped his hands over his Ghost and tried to concentrate a shield of Arc around him. It was clumsy and stray sparks were rolling everywhere, but his Ghost stopped his shivering. So long as he kept him warm, he would keep him from succumbing to the ice. Whenever he felt him begin to shiver he would warm him again, and the Ghost worked on healing him whenever he wasn't too cold. The healing Light brought warmth to his bones, even if it was swept away too quickly to enjoy.

“ _I'm picking up his Ghost_.” The drone said, voice coming through his helmet rather than trying to talk through the storm.

Cayde's Ghost just sounded sad when the connection established. “ _Zavala_ ,” she started. “ _He's alive, don't worry._ ”

Relief spurred him on, he had his worries that Cayde would be dead by the time he arrived. He just hadn't brought himself close enough to darkness to think that he would be. He took off at a run as the storm's winds lessened. He suspected he was leaving the chaos of the geysers. Why had Cayde insisted on flying over the south pole?

Through the fog of snow, he spotted the ship, the fires had long gone out. He ran, when he got there he tore into it, opening the hatch and finding the Ghost nestled into Cayde's hood. He sighed with relief. “ _He hit phase 4 while we were flying over._ ” She said, Zavala wasn't entirely sure what that meant but he knew it wasn't good. “ _The reboot.. isn't far off._ ” Her shell was drooping, she looked so unhappy. He got her tucked next to his own Ghost and hauled the Exo to his chest despite still being belted in. He was still warm, still alive, just not awake. For a moment he lost himself in the embrace, holding the lifeless Cayde to his chest with a hand on the back of his head. He had been too slow to make it here in time for one final goodbye, with only Ghosts to witness he let that hurt for a moment.

“You've destroyed far too many ships,” he murmured as he used one of the Hunter's knives to slice through the belts strapping him in. Once he had him free he settled him in his arms, carrying him out into the cold.

“ _There are warships nearby,_ ” she started, her voice in his helmet. “ _But Zavala.. there's nothing you can do for him now._ ”

“I don't care,” his voice cracked. A huge part of him had hoped that Cayde could still be saved. The sensible part of him knew it was too late. It didn't matter, Zavala would be here when he woke as Cayde-7 no matter how hard it was going to be. 

The ships were dark on the horizon, the mist was slowing, he just kept moving. One of the crooked doors of the boat was ajar when he got to it, he entered the dark hallway with Cayde still in his arms. Everything was at a bit of an angle, the entire thing frozen into a cliff. It was sheltered and it would be warm, the way ahead was lit by Ghosts and he just carried the limp Exo through doorways and halls. He walked deeper and deeper and let the pair of Ghosts lead him to the remains of a lounge, whoever had been here before had tried to survive. Pre-Collapse, maybe, possibly shortly after. The whole place was dusty and stale, but he carried him to a cluster of cushions that had been stacked in the middle of the room. He set him down on top of them, gentle with him, tender, then removed his helmet and set it to the side. He knelt beside him and took one hand.

Both Ghosts glanced at each other, sadly, Zavala ignored them and sat with cold knuckles pressed against his lips. For as long as it took, he would wait. He hadn't stopped long enough to be upset about this. Cayde had just left and encrypted his door, he'd broken a few bones getting it open because there hadn't been time for his Ghost to crack it. He knew Cayde was good at doors. Now, in the quiet of the room, he held Cayde's hand and did his best to picture a life where Cayde didn't know who he was.

"Why here?" He asked softly, looking at Cayde's droopy Ghost. 

She sank down to rest on Cayde's shoulder, " _I don't know. He always comes here when he reboots. There's an old village at the top of this cliff, that's usually where he ends up._ "

Zavala only nodded, all he could do now was wait for him to wake up again. From in here, he couldn't hear the wind, it was cold but not freezing. He couldn't imagine Cayde waking up in a place like this all alone, he was glad that he wouldn't this time. 

After a few minutes, his Ghost clicked, “ _incoming._ ” He said. He only nodded, caring very little about who it was. Ikora, perhaps, asking if he found him or not. 

“ _Commander Zavala._ ” The voice said, he sounded so familiar. Undisguised, unashamed. “ _This is Hawthorne 2, where are you?_ " 

“Enceladus.” He responded, “why is a member of the Hidden getting involved?”

The man sighed, “ _Ikora has an idea, and she asked me to. You'll see when I get there. Coordinates._ ”

Begrudgingly, he sent them. Then he kissed the knuckles in his hands once more and stood. The storm was still raging, but the old warship was mostly out of range. Within minutes a ship was darting towards them, it was a fairly large one. Word must have been sent back to the Tower that their ships had gone down. Two figures emerged, one he knew, Braig. He carried a bag over one shoulder and something akin to hope flickered in his chest. This man had put Cayde back together when all seemed lost, if anyone could help it would be him. Ikora had pulled through, taking the time to think before acting. The other was a Hunter with a red scarf obstructing his face and a hood pulled low enough to hide his eyes. He stood a good distance away from the pair. “Who are you?” He asked once they'd come close. Floating beside the Hunter was a pale Ghost with fractures and cracks decorating its shell.

The Hunter bowed his head and hesitated before pulling the scarf down under his bearded chin. He didn't move quickly, his face still cast in shadow. But he straightened his back and pulled the hood off his head and let the fabric pool around his shoulders. 

How peculiar that, in the midst of Cayde's reboot, it was the appearance of Andal Brask that got him honestly scared. “You..” He was speechless. This man was the reason he had waited so long to be with Cayde, everything they could have had long before now had hinged on the memory of him. And now he only had a few short months with Cayde as his partner before the past came back. “How are you..?” He started, he just didn't know how to finish the sentence. Braig stood far enough away to remain out of the conversation.

“My death was no accident,” Andal's voice was soft and timid, for the calm and collected man he used to know, this version of him was so unlike him.

The shock faded quickly as anger settled in. “So this was all part of your plan.” He started, his voice close to a growl.

“Some of it, yes.” The ex-Vanguard replied.

“Do you have _any_ idea what you did to him?!” He nearly shouted. Obvious pain flashed over the Hunter's face like his words were a physical blow.

“I know what I've done.”

“You trapped him in a place he didn't want to be!” He was shouting, now, shouting to be heard over the wind and shouting because he knew what would happen if Cayde knew Andal was alive. Each sharp word almost had the Hunter flinching as if he were dealing him physical blows instead of verbal ones.

“I know.”

“You lied to all of us.”

“Amanda knew.”

The outrage bubbled over again. “You told Amanda?!” He yelled, he had taken a few steps towards him without noticing. “What were you thinking? Why would you saddle her with that kind of burden? What did she do to deserve that?”

Andal didn't retreat, he stood tall but had no whisper of resistance or defiance in him. “I couldn't go without knowing he would be okay without me.”

“After all you did to him you have the _audacity_ to talk about how someone should treat him?” He hissed, face to face. “How _dare_ you speak of selflessness.” Andal closed his eyes, his breath shook when he took one in. “And you've been alive this whole time, just waiting to swoop in like the hero.” He accused, he didn't believe his own claim for a second, but a wild accusation was a good way to pull information out of a Hunter.

When Andal opened his eyes, they were wet. “No,” he said. It was the first time his voice trembled. “I wasn't supposed to wake up again. I tricked my Ghost into surviving and she _waited_ there all those years.” Andal looked away, looked at the Ghost bumping up against his knuckles gently. Such a tender touch didn't have any place in his anger. “I had hoped she would leave me behind.”

“You regret what you did to her more than what you did to Cayde.” It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

“Yes.” The man's voice was like a sigh, his eyes closed and tears slipped down his cheeks. He held the Ghost in his hands, his thumb petting the most damaged piece of her shell. “Cayde had time to heal, he could stop the reboot. For all those years she watched over what was left of me.”

The anger still coursed through him, he wanted to yell at this broken man. He wanted to break his jaw and fracture his skull and spill his blood over the white snow. Once this was a man he had trusted and respected, one he had considered his brother and now he was just a shadow of that memory. He had betrayed them all. Faked a death to 'save' someone. “I know how important he is to you.” He said, only opening his eyes enough to look down at the cold between them. “That's why I'm here.”

“How do I know you're not just going to speed up the process?” His voice was a little strangled. “Then take him away once he's Cayde-7?”

Andal's laugh hurt to hear, he almost flinched at the sound. “I don't deserve him. You wouldn't lie to him. You wouldn't manipulate him. When this was up to me I rigged the game and in my last moment I only felt relief.” He looked back at him, finally, met his gaze with conviction. “Look at what you did, you abandoned your post to come here to save him or pick up the pieces. You're willing to risk who you are, your identity, just to try to bring him home. Even if you're just a stranger to him.” He paused for another shaky breath before continuing. “I could never get in the way of that.”

Zavala wanted to keep yelling at him. He wanted to shout and escalate the situation so that he could let his fists do the talking. But nothing he could say or do would make him feel any better. No matter how many times he broke his knuckles on his enemies it had never made him feel any better. Drawing the blood out of this Hunter wouldn't make anything easier. “What do we do?” His voice just sounds weak, now.

“Braig is going to try something. Show us where he is.”

So Zavala led the pair to Cayde, where he lay comatose on the pillows. Andal's breath hitched when he saw him and anger filled him again. Cayde's Ghost fluttered over to Andal's and the pair of them circled each other gleefully, happy to be reunited. He eyed his own Ghost who typically kept to himself and stayed strictly business. He didn't think he had ever touched his Ghost the kind way Andal did, affectionate and tender. He didn't think his Ghost would be okay with that kind of contact, he seemed so indifferent most times. He wondered if his own lack of affection had caused his Ghost to become withdrawn.

Braig was already getting to work, Andal turned to Zavala. He seemed to have regained some of his composure, but he still looked so tired. “I don't know if this will work. If it does, the reboot should be eliminated and he will be okay. If it doesn't, he gets rebooted anyway.”

Zavala just sighed, weary. “I came here knowing that he wouldn't remember who I was when he saw me. If there's a chance..” he grit his teeth. “How can I trust you?” What stopped Andal from swaying Cayde to him?

“You don't have to.” He said softly, “I used to look at him the same way you look at him now. I wouldn't have been able to watch this, that's why..” The Hunter sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Truth be told, him rebooting or not, my end would have been the same. Might have roped a different Hunter into the Vanguard though.”

Suddenly all his anger tasted like regret. In all that time he hadn't realized Andal hadn't been okay. The way he spoke told a tale that was much darker than what he thought but the pieces were aligining. He had assumed it had been a simple trap, his life for Cayde's memories. He hadn't imagined that Andal's suffering went so much deeper. “No one knew that part, Commander.” His voice was so soft. “I got everyone who figured it out to think I was the self-sacrificing hero. In reality, I was the coward who wanted his life to end and needed a scapegoat.”

Once, he had seen Andal as a friend. Someone he would gladly die fighting beside, someone who was always playing his little tricks and casting his bets. He was the first Hunter he ever learned to trust, for a long time he had thought that Andal was the only Hunter he could trust. They fought together and butted heads but always found that middle ground between his attack and Andal's stealth.

When Cayde found Andal on Io, Ikora had told him that the Void was no easy power to come back from. His mastery of the element was strong, no doubt, back then she had confidence that he would be fine.

It appeared that Andal hadn't been able to escape the shores of the Void, that was his only real guess. He looked at him now and saw a broken man, one who was only a shadow of the man he had been. His confidence and his pride had been stripped clean and now he was left with nothing. He regretted he had not noticed his struggle – how could he consider them friends if he hadn't paid enough attention to him to notice his decline? He looked at the Hunter's Ghost, she looked like the personification of a struggle just on her own. The pieces of her shell were dented, healed and open cracks decorating each piece.

Braig got to work on opening Cayde up to see if there was a way to cancel the reboot protocol.

* * *

 

Andal stood in the hall, just outside the lounge. He expected he was preparing to escape as soon as he learned if it worked, so he didn't need to be seen. Braig had tidied up his tools and stood back, waiting. He said he thought he found it, thought he might have isolated and removed what caused an Exo to reboot. But he wasn't sure, he just said he'd tried his best and he hoped it worked. Zavala held tight to his Exo's hand, bruising his own fingers on a hand made of metal and mesh. Cayde's Ghost hung close, hovering nervously. He could hear his pulse in his ears, he could feel nervous energy in his hands.

“ _He's waking up._ ” The little Ghost said, looking between the Hunter and the Titan. He sat back, just a little, as his systems slowly flickered into life. His optics turned to static before clearing into that familiar shape.

The Exo hummed contentedly, “heya, Big Blue.” He purred.

Relief hit him harder than anything he'd ever felt, it _worked_. He tugged his wonderful lovely Cayde to his chest and kissed him, he was okay. He hadn't been rebooted, he was still the Cayde he knew.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last official chapter - just expect the epilogue in the next day or two. Unless I get impatient and decide to submit it early. I really hope you enjoyed this, I've wanted to get to Enceladus for so damn long. 
> 
> I have a few theories about Enceladus, specifically, I think that's the place Cayde was turned into an Exo. There's a couple lines out of Cayde's Treasure Island that make me think so. And I've seen some warships-half-frozen-in-the-ice concept art that I'm sure is Enceladus. 
> 
> C'mon, Bungie, bring us to Enceladus. 
> 
> Enough chatter, I hope you enjoyed ❤


	11. Epilogue

There was no mourning a reboot. Not officially, anyway. The person wasn't dead, their memories were just reset. So there were no black banners in the Tower, there was no service, there was no memorial. Just the search for a new Hunter Vanguard. He had asked that Andal take Cayde-7 to the Farm, just to keep him away for a little while. It was a selfish request, the Hunter was still wounded from everything he'd done, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He couldn't handle seeing him around so soon. He just needed some time, that's all. He collected all of Cayde's journals and read them on windy cold days. He told himself he would return them to their rightful owner one day. 

_Cayde's hand fell onto his chest, then pushed him away. Cayde blinked up at him curiously._

“ _Don't get me wrong, awesome way to wake up. I would be so okay with that happening, y'know, a lot. But I feel like I should probably learn your name first.”_

_Zavala's world went cold. Unbelievable pain wrapped itself around his throat, his chest, his hands. Time froze, he spent an eternity in that single moment. It felt inescapable, he was trapped here with the revelation. Blood hot in his ears, only silence alongside the slow beat of his pulse._

At the time, he thought that would never end. Some days he thought it still hasn't ended. 

He stood at the edge of the Tower, his hands folded behind his back, looking up at the Traveler and wondering what he could have done differently. There was a chance Cayde-7 might fall for him too, but he knew that 7 wasn't 6, and he didn't want to replace 6 with 7. So he let his days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. He healed, in time. He got to know Cayde-7 in brief moments. He was a good guy with the same brand of humour as 6 with a splash of newness and unfamiliar mannerisms. He thought he could love this version of him, he thought he could convince every version of Cayde to fall helplessly in love with him. And he wanted to, he wanted nothing more than to at least try. 

But that wasn't what Cayde wanted, he was a bird in a cage when he was in the Tower, he needed the wilds like life needed light. Zavala was a man who stood atop walls to protect those behind it, Cayde simply belonged on the other side of those walls. Everything about 6 had fit together perfectly enough for him to be happy in one spot, he didn't think it would happen again. It was because he loved him that he stayed away. Even when he remembered how his world had gone cold when Cayde asked him his name, or when he felt that unimaginable pain start to consume him. Some days he still felt it as strongly as he had at that moment. Some days it took everything he had to get out of bed.

Most of the time he was okay, the day to day resulted in the same Zavala everyone knew. Perhaps there was a bit too much of the stiff no-nonsense version of the old Zavala that came out here and there, but he was still level-headed when it came to the next threat. Ikora stopped worrying about him after a few months, so did everyone else. He was okay. Not entirely happy, but content with his work and his life. 

Months turned into years, he rarely saw Cayde anymore. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I couldn't end it like that, could I? 
> 
> This whole experience has been amazing, you guys, I can't thank you enough for all of the support and praise you've given me. It means so much to me that you guys have followed me for this long and have stuck with me for all my silly little filler chapters. I've still got more of Andal to write, but this part? Is over. I don't have the words to express my gratitude. Thank you to everyone who commented, left kudos, followed me on Tumblr, talked to me, and just read and enjoyed this. 
> 
> I do have a ko-fi account set up if you're interested. The link is on my Tumblr @ofaDyingStar, but I just use the name 'DyingStar' for everything so I'm easy to find. I also have a Discord account if you ever felt like chatting, ofaDyingStar#5902 I am always down to chatter about fic ideas and pairings and basically anything and everything.
> 
> [Tumblr link to the art](http://ofadyingstar.tumblr.com/post/172850585169/sadvala-post-from-here-the-stars-the-scarf-was)


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